


Omega Prime

by crossroadrain



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, no actual non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:37:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 35,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3501983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadrain/pseuds/crossroadrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shots firing, bodies dropping, and the sound thunder of war rang in his ears and the sweet smell of something clinical and pure filled his nose and lungs. John gulped air like a drowning man and the smell lulled him into a false sense of safety and endless power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission

John had his fair share of crazy in his career in the army. He was on-field surgeon for quite a while and then rose to Captain after proving himself worthy of the rank. He was keeping his position in good shape, did a lot of missions and made a name for himself slowly but insistently. He was a patient man. He could wait and knew that working on his goals would eventually pay off. He wasn’t completely wrong, but as with the crazy, he had his fair share of bad luck too.

His last day in the army proved the statement. He was gravely injured during battle. A nasty wound in the shoulder, nothing deadly, but he fell on his back and for some long minutes he thought he won’t find it in himself to get up.

Shots firing, bodies dropping, and the sound thunder of war rang in his ears and the sweet smell of something clinical and pure filled his nose and lungs. John gulped air like a drowning man and the smell lulled him into a false sense of safety and endless power.

He got up, his riffle against his shoulder and stepped ahead, forwarding his team through the small village turned into a rebel camp. They took it fast and bloody. It turned his stomach to see all the bodies, dragged to the rescue planes and choppers every night but he knew perfectly well what he was signing for when he enrolled.

Back to the camp he couldn’t wait to wash all the filthy dirt and bloody, staining his ripped camo and skin. His face was sticky and his hands were itchy. He was heading for the water tanks by the river when Lieutenant Ford ran up to him.

“The Major is calling of you, sir,” the lieutenant said.

John frowned. “I just got back from the field. I’ll take a quick bath and I’ll go see him.”

“No, sir, I am sorry. You need to go _now_.”

John snorted but nodded stiffly and walked past Ford with stony face. He didn‘t dare think what the visit may be about. Sometimes the Major called for him so they discussed battle strategy. Other days he tried to seduce him and make him fuck him. It was never a pleasurable meeting, especially since John didn‘t feel much sleeping with the Major.

When he got to the office John noticed that today at least half a dozen Alphas guarded the Major when usually only two or three Alphas or betas were kept around.

He knocked on the door and waited to be invited. The Alpha major invited him a minute later and John reluctantly reached for the door, his free hand checking if his gun was still in place.

It wasn’t below the Major to force John into having sex with him. Once two Alphas held him into place while the Major fruitlessly tried to sunk himself on his cock. He got angrier and angrier every time John couldn’t do it for him. Problem was, it just wasn’t happening for him.

Not with the Major, not with another man or another woman. It just didn’t happen for John anymore.

“John!” The Major exclaimed when the saw him at the door. He was sitting naked on his desk, drinking whiskey with satisfaction written on his face. “Would you like a glass of that? It may help with the little situation in your pants.”

John didn’t answer, he didn’t even growl. He stood his ground by the door, knowing fully well that if he tried to get out now, the Alphas outside weren’t going to make it easy.

“You are so dirty, John. Do you feel the adrenaline still rushing through your veins?” he smiled, purring sweetly. “Does it fill your cock with want?”

John shifted minutely. “No.”

The Major stopped. He stood and walking to him, gripped his crotch through the camo. He swore under his breath and turned back.

“Ah, well. Just my luck, heh, what do you say? I won’t have it my way with you, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Who knows?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“We are sending you away. London HQ called and they asked for you.”

“But how they know about me? Why would the HQ what me? I am just a…”

“You are an Alpha male of some impressive power and self-control. They’ve seen how insistent you are against my sexual desires. They’ve seen you with me, with those omegas I’ve once showed you. They need someone like you, with principle, with discipline, with the moral code for a very dangerous and fragile mission.”

They were both quiet for a while. John ahifted nervously, not knowing what to say.

“Sir?” he dared say after thinking about what he had heard one last time. “What kind of mission am I summoned for?”

The Major scowled and went back to his desk to finish his drink. “You’ve heard of the Prime?”

“The Omega Prime blood? Yes, I have.”

“One of the Omega Primes has gone missing some time ago. Now they believe they are in a good position for a saving mission. Problem is…”

“Omega Prime is a very expensive and luxurious thing. They need someone with good military history, fighting skills, doctor skills in case the Prime is hurt, moral compass and dead cock to resist the seduction of the Prime. They are literally looking for me.” John finished with hard irony and a sickly smile on his face.

“Yes. The HQ fears for the Prime safety, he may have been molested and they want him protected and secured.”

“I see.” John crossed the room in two long steps. He took the whiskey and poured himself a glass. It may as well be his last, knowing the kind of missions the HQ conducted.

“If you agree, they’ll take you tonight and brief you on everything of importance. The mission will start shortly.”

John nodded. He stood by the window, watching the camp outside of the building. They didn’t have a proper baths but the fucking Major had a desk and even nice chairs in his room.

He turned around the look at him and the man sneered, “We still have time for a quick fuck, Johny,” he said. “And if you manage this time, they may even let you live your life and not bother you with some pitiful Omegas. Do you know what I don’t understand? Like, genuinely. They’ll sell the poor fucker’s ass faster than you can say name. Why do they even bother saving him?”

“What do you mean?” John frowned in disgust, hearing his words but the Major rarely babbled. He knew how to strike when it most counted.

“Well, you know, most likely he is taken by the Savages. You know their ways and likings. Whoever they have taken, you won’t take back the same man. Best case scenario, he is still sane, definitely not as virginal or pure as when he was taken.”

John didn’t answer. Suddenly a stone was stuck in his throat and he didn’t dare say a word. The ways of the Savages were well known to him and every other soldier in the camp. They were vile and cruel, more like animals than men. Their traditions were barbaric, with no respect for the Omega (not that modern London society was much better) and with now respect for the bond or the soul.

The doctor fidgeted with unease. The smell of clinic filled his lungs again and panic shredded through him. He didn’t want to wait a minute more.

“When can I go?”

“The sooner the better. How much time do you need?”

“None,” the answer came with cold assurance.

The Major smiled wickedly. His finger circled the glass and he reach for the phone almost lazily. “ So, it’s a ‘no’ for the last fuck?”

John growled and the Major laughed. It didn’t last long because as soon as the phone started ringing, someone answered on the other side and a chopper was sent for John.

“Go pack. The chopper will land in three hundred. Be ready.”


	2. Bring Back

The chopper took him to a plane and the plane to another plane after that. All of them were private jets with the HQ logo all over them, from the wings to the stamp on the glasses.

The staff eyed John curiously but no one made a note about all the dirt sticking to his skin or about the shoulder wound which hurt like hell and made all John’s doctor instincts scream for attention.

He had it bound in the camp but the bandaging hadn’t been changed for hours now and it was due for quite some time.

Rubbing around the wound and waiting for the second painkiller in an hour, John looked outside the window. London was shine and beautiful as always, untouched by the cruelties of the war and the dark gloom of death, draining the life out of the battle line.

The plane landed closely to the HQ where a shiny black car was waiting.

“Captain John Watson?” A young woman asked without moving her eyes away from her phone.

John nodded but it took him a second to realize she hadn’t seen that, so he said stiffly, “Yes, it’s me.”

“Get in the car, Captain.”

Without objections, John took his bag and ducked into the car. For his surprise, an older man was waiting inside.

“Good evening,” he greeted.

“Yeah, right, it’s peachy,” John greeted him back. A million questions ran through his head right now and he had no idea where to start from.

The man smiled but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was more an acidic answer to a tasteless joke. John didn’t judge him. The man looked worn down, ashen and quite frankly, devastatingly broken.

“My name is Mycroft Holmes, Heir of the Holmes family, and you are here to save my brother.”

Shifting his legs, John kicked his bag and reach for it. He wasn’t nervous, but a gnawing feeling in his mind didn’t let him rest.

“You were chosen very carefully for this mission for, as you may know, he is an Omega Prime. Similarly as to how you are an Alpha Prime.”

John frowned. “I showed Prime when I was young, since then no marks of a Prime nature has showed.”

Mycroft didn’t say anything particular to that.

The Alpha Prime had nothing to do with the abilities of an Omega Prime. The Alphas were naturally stronger and bigger, but as nature showed Omegas could as easily become the same as well. Alpha was the predator gender and possessed a different social bearing than Betas and Omegas.

The Alpha Prime was the ultimate predator. An animal of such nature it was barely human for its strong abilities and needs. An Omega Prime was a rare occurrence of amazing importance for society but an Alpha Prime was a hunted down predator of a dangerous and naturally feared nature.

“You are both of extreme rarity and that’s why it’s so important for us and for me especially much.” He stopped and drew a quick breath. “In the HQ you’ll have time to wash and tend to your wound as well as get equipped and properly armored. I have a proper dossier for you and I’ll brief you for all the necessary details. It is essential for you to know that this mission is top secret and that you are on our own once you are out there. You’ll have three more Alphas with you for the get going but it is you who must extract my brother and get him back to me.”

John listened intently. Once Mycroft Holmes shut his mouth, he scrunched his face and dubiously asked, “What are you going to do to him?”

“Excuse me?” The man sounded shocked, as if he never expected a mere soldier, even if in the rank of a Captain, to dare ask him this question. The one question no one liked to ask when it came to Omegas. Too many families still sold their Omega heirs, even if the law prohibited it and the masses claimed equality.

“Are you going to send him from one prison to another, that’s what I’m asking?”

Mycroft sneered. “You and I both now better that to expect you to come back with a functional human being, Captain. The Savages have had him for weeks now, my only hope is for them to have detected a Heat is coming and they haven’t…”

“Right,” John gulped. “When is that Heat due?”

“One hundred to one hundred and twenty hours.”

“Four days, if we are lucky, five.”

Silent nod was all he got for answer.

The car drew to a stop and the woman on the phone opened the door for them. John was stunned by the building of the HQ, it was the biggest, poshest work of art he has ever seen and it was a massive waste of taxpayers’ money to maintain.

By the end of the night he was ready for his mission. Brief by Mycroft Holmes and triple tested on his sexual desires by both male and female Omegas, John felt tempted to slice their throats open if they didn’t let his mission start soon.

He didn’t have time and his plan of attack would take at least two days to be executed properly. The last thing John wanted was taking back an Omega Prime in Heat. His body may have lost any and all interest in sexual encounters but other Alphas were going to get extra invasive under the influence of the Prime.

“Captain?” Mycroft was waiting for them by the hanger for the chopper. “Sherlock is a…”

“I’ll bring him back.”


	3. Cage

Savages was the name they had given to a vicious group of war criminals and rebels fleeing the fight and living in a clan like groups, dwelling on the cruelest, more animalistic sides of their nature. They lived deep in the woods, close to the mountains and behind the heavy cover of the trees.

John’s team had a location not too far away from the meeting point by the chopper. They landed carefully, regrouped and moved forward with John reminding them that they didn’t have any time to waste.

“Masks on!” John urged as all four Alphas reached and put on the pheromone masks, genuinely provided by HQ so they don’t get distracted by the disarray of Omegas in the camp. It was common for Savages to keep a lot of Omegas at one place so that at any given moment, there was an Omega in Heat to be used by the soldiers.

It was easy, at first. The camp was wide and untidy, with no inside structure or guards in the outskirts. It was only after they got close to the main buildings and the smell of cheap alcohol hit them in the noses heavily mixed with the typical odor of Omegas in Heat that some kind of guards could be noticed.

Almost all of them Alphas, here and there some Beta, managed to wriggle their way into the clan pyramid. John’s team easily took them down. Their silenced riffles left their appearance a surprise for the better part of the whole camp, cheering in exaltation inside the dingy, wobbly building.

John signaled his team and two of them jumped up and climbed, reaching for the higher windows. They disarmed the smoke grenades and thirty seconds later John and his partner on the ground jumped the door and burst inside.

The panic was huge. The room was big and smoky and everyone ran and screamed and shot were fired. Their masks helped with the gas that had gotten everyone still inside asleep. There were people of all types and natures sprawled in rather demonstrative and disgraceful manner all over the chairs and tables and the randomly thrown benches, hunched here and there.

“Andy, find if the leader is here. Take him in. Kat, Mike, look around; gather everything we may need to bring back to HQ. I’ll find Holmes.”

Andy snorted then and at first John didn’t quite knew why. Then he stepped to the center of the hall and everything became clear very fast. Almost as fast as John’s stomach clenched and he tried not to move.

In the center of the hall there was a small cage. Inside the cage laid the Omega Prime. Or just so it looked like him. John drew the picture on his phone, then reached out, took him by the hair and tuned his face ever so slightly.

It was definitely him.

Sherlock Holmes.

The Omega Prime.

John felt idiotic pride to be the one saving him, even _touching him_ but he shook the feeling away and tried to focus on the task at hand. The Omega was reaching out, barely conscious. Soft pleas for help rang in John’s ear as the baritone pleaded for him to help him and John gladly did.

“Are you alright?” He asked, knowing fully well that Sherlock might pass out every moment now. The man buckled and hissed panicky, struggling to get away. “Hey, hey. Look at me, alright?”

The Omega opened his big, magical eyes and stared at John and he regretted his word immediately. These eyes were poison. They were a drug and John shouldn’t ever had the chance to even try it.

“Omega? Omega, do you hear me?”

The man in the cage growled as John was breaking down the lock. “Sh-“

“Sherlock, I know. Sherlock Holmes, I am here to save you.”

He snorted derisively and it took John a second to realize what the tone was. He was about to ask why did Sherlock react this way, when the Omega slowly said, “I could’ve done that myself.”

“Why don’t I just leave you then? You could take it from here.” Of course John was only kidding. He was in no way leaving his objective to save himself.

Sadly, before Sherlock could reply, he was out. His eyes closed and his mouth hung open, his head lolling in John’s arms before the soldier could start to take him out of the cage.

He was in the middle of wrestling the cage when Andy returned having indeed captured the leader and the little information Kat and Mike had managed to find was in their possession now. The only problem for John was that it was way too easy. They had guards. No way was the whole group inside that building, fucking in an Omega Prime induced delirium. The guards were here somewhere and most likely they were going to show up the moment John stepped foot outside the building.

“Captain, what do we do now?” Kat asked from the other end of the room.

John was crouching behind the cage. The door opened widely so the upper half of his body could bend inside and carefully take Sherlock’s thin, pliant body out. He got upright with the Omega in his hands. It was a large bird cage. He felt sick imagining the long, lean body in his arms stuffed inside it.

Sherlock had amazing milky white skin and dark curls that felt in disarray around his head. He was out for good and didn’t show any signs of waking up before the others. John took him to one of the tables and laid him on it with utmost gentleness. He signaled the others and slowly removed his mask for a moment. The three Alphas looked at him expectantly, as they hoped for him to lose his mind over the Prime and thus give them the perfect change to take charge over the Prime.

He sniffed the air and scrunched his nose. He didn’t smell anything unusual. His head bowed, body leaned impossibly close, he sniffed the Omega once more before he put his mask back on and informed the team of current status of the Omega.

“Be ready to open fire,” was the last thing John managed to scream before they went outside.

Kat and Andy covered them while Mike escorted John with Sherlock in his arms to the safe route to the chopper and ran back to take the leader of the Savage group.

They all ran back to hold the fire until eventually it died for a short minute that proved more than enough for them to run for the chopper and take off immediately.

It had taken only five hours to extract the Omega, but the ride back to HQ was long and hard and John wasn’t sure they got the time they needed. They travelled more that eighteen hours and wasted so much more. Sherlock didn’t have that much time to his Heat and going into Heat while on a plane with five Alphas wasn’t really a good idea.

“Mycroft?” John called the moment they landed and stopped to wait for the first plane after the chopper had gotten them out of the woods.

“Did you secure him,” came the falsely calm voice from the other side.

“Yes, but we don’t have time. He is going to go into Heat by tomorrow night.”

Mycroft was silent. “You can’t have his Heat with him. I’ll have you killed if you even…”

“I thought you knew about me,” John said coldly. No matter how much John wanted it, he couldn’t… not anymore. He looked at the body on the folding bed next to him. He really wanted to be able to have sex, especially with a creature as elegant and curious as Sherlock.

“What do you want?”

“A private jet. We bring the leader of the pack; you can have him in order for another plane. I don’t want to risk getting him onto the same plane with five Alphas.”

The man hummed and then said, “I see what you mean. It will be there shortly. The second one will take the others. You and Sherlock will get on the first plane. And you take him straight home, Captain!”


	4. Punishment

The time was moving slow and steady.

John took Sherlock in the plane as soon as it arrived and they took off immediately. The team was briefed on the changed schedule and they left them waiting for the second plane to arrive and take them.

The Prime was the main objective in the case. Everyone recognized the fact although some of the other Alphas seemed disappointed. They were going to lose their chance in bonding with the Prime, even if the only possible bonding would’ve been a forced one. John could read it in their eyes as he talked and explained their mutual decision with Mycroft.

He ascended the staircase to the plane with hands full of Omega Prime approaching Heat. John couldn’t believe his life right now. A week ago he was on the front line, getting shot at. The wound on his shoulder, a steady reminder of his life before Mycroft Holmes and Sherlock Holmes and every mention of his Alpha Prime qualifications.

He did everything possible not to show signs again. Usually showing strong Alpha Prime signs was equal to a death sentence. John showed sporadically and he got a good deal; they let him continue his career as an army doctor and didn’t force him into sure death which was unexpectedly nice.

The inside of the plane was clean and simple. They had a secured room for Sherlock and a separated one for the Alphas. John was the only one allowed inside both rooms but as they were on their own now, it didn’t matter much.

John put Sherlock on a double bed, secured for the plane, and stepped out to bring him some food and water for when he woke up.

There was no staff on the plane, not even a pilot as it was controlled remotely from the HQ in London. The bar was stocked along with small fridge, buzzing along with soft classical music playing in the back. The sounds were interrupted only by Sherlock’s soft little moan and whimpers.

Food and water in hand, John went back to the room. He had to prioritize. They didn’t have much time, but the Heat was still relatively away. It was best for him to change Sherlock’s clothing now, when no signs of Heat could play with his mind. The problem was he couldn’t just take his clothes off.

Sherlock was just rescued from a rebel camp of highly dangerous criminals, prone to abuse. Taking Sherlock’s clothes off now would be no better on John’s part. So he settled for the least offensive option coming to his mind.

A bowl of water and a cloth later, he crouched by the bed, Sherlock safely pulled closer to the edge so the soldier could have easy access. He wetted the cloth, the fabric dragging along the soft skin on Sherlock’s wrists and arms. He cleaned his palms thoroughly, washing each finger on its own, touching their fingertips together just to see how it would feel.

His hand shaky, he dragged the cloth along Sherlock’s long beautiful neck. He moved slowly and expertly, just the way he was thought to care for a patient. And he tried not to feel anything. Emotions were in order, it was absolutely normal, or that was what he was telling himself, because it was understandable, when you save someone’s life, you ought to feel closer to them, you ought to be protective of them. John needed to believe that so he did. And he didn’t stop reminding himself that it was normal. It was normal to want and shelter Sherlock, to want and take him in his arms.

John shook his head and growled. It was all the normal crazy that came with the Prime. It was expected even, for an Alpha to become… unusually well prone to an Omega Prime, although John did show signs of a Prime himself and that complicated matters much more.

Sherlock stirred and John moved the wet cloth away from his face where he cleaned some dirt and blood, dried over his cheekbones.

“Hello,” John said quietly. “Can you hear me, Mr. Holmes?”

Acute cough ripped Sherlock’s throat and lungs. His body shaking and hands trembling, he tried to sit but he couldn’t control his body so he fell right back to the bed. John hurried to catch him and help him up.

He propped him against the bed frame, fingers carding through the messy dark curls falling in Sherlock’s eyes. “Easy,” he coaxed before taking the glass of water to Sherlock’s lips. “You are safe now. I am taking you home.”

As he was drinking, Sherlock sputtered and spat the water out and over the sheets. He didn’t turn the glass over only because John was still holding onto it, their fingers entwined over the cool glass.

Sherlock coughed again, shaking his head, “You can…” He motioned for the water and John slowly took it to his lips. Slowly, Sherlock sipped a few times and cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand. “You can’t take me back,” he rasped weakly.

John didn’t know what to say. He stayed quiet, waiting for Sherlock to do something, to ask who he was or what was happening.

“Where did they snatch you from then, Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“What?”

Sherlock once again asked for the water and gulped the whole glass down. “You are a soldier, you have a uniform but you are fresh from the field. You are also injured, judging by the state of your shoulder. You need to change the dressing, soldier, your posture tells me it doesn’t feel good and you don’t want it to get infected.”

Mouth agape, John smiled a little and shook his head tiredly. “They told me you were smart, but didn’t tell me you’d be this brilliant.”

“Are we alone?”

“Yes?”

“So, you must be a doctor. Show me your hands,” Sherlock observed the offered hands with care before his head lulled to the other side and he closed his eyes for a moment. “An army doctor, most likely a surgeon.”

John giggled, “Amazing,” he murmured to himself. Then he reached for the soup he made for Sherlock and offered it to him.

He shook his head ‘no’. “I don’t feel like eating.”

“Did they feed you?”’

“Not regularly. I was used to not eating regularly even before they took me. Don’t worry about that.”

“Okay,” John agreed reluctantly. He was going to argue over that statement but it wasn’t going to happen right now. He decided he needed to give Sherlock some space and time to adjust. He didn’t seem too shocked or relieved. Sherlock didn’t look anything actually and that was unnerving. “Mr. Holmes…”

“You can call me Sherlock if you like.”

“Sherlock… you were just extracted from a Savage camp. We are currently crossing the Bordering countries as we are headed to the HQ in London. Your brother is expecting us there. I hope we make it before your Heat so you can be secured and in safe hands.”

The man frowned and swallowed with some difficulty. “I won’t be safe there, doctor.”

“Why do you think so?”

Sherlock quirked his mouth, his colorful eyes gleaming with mischief. “Are you a loyal soldier?” he asked with disdain. John felt guilty for some reason and he shifted in his place, knelt by the bed. “You didn’t ask about me at all, did you? You didn’t ask about anything that wasn’t directly order to you?”

“I… no,” he lowered his eyes.

“You don’t know how a ended up in the Savage camp.”

“You were kidnapped. Weren’t you?”

“No.”

John deliberately stayed silent. He wanted to ask, he had a million questions but he didn’t know how to formulate a whole sentence.

“I was given away. As a way of punishment.”


	5. Shield

John found himself dumbfounded. He stared at Sherlock for a few long moments. He couldn’t say a single word.

Utterly shocked, he worked himself to say, “What? Why? Why would someone do something like that to you?”

Sherlock’s ghost smile saddened him.

“I refused a Bond,” he murmured. “And now it would be even worse. That night was the first time they’d let an Alpha spend the Heat with me. Problem was I didn’t want an Alpha during my Heat. Usually I’d writhe and whine,” while he was talking Sherlock watched John carefully, searching for how many typical Alpha male behavioristic traits he will display. “I begged to be taken, Alpha. But this one time and every single time after that, I don’t care for an Alpha. I am in pain and no random Alpha can stop it.”

“How comes that?” John was genuinely perplexed. He tried to keep his calm but the story kicked his brain and heart into full Alpha Protector Mode. Without realizing it his hands had gripped Sherlock’s tight and fingers. He didn’t let go, he didn’t have the peace of mind to do so yet, but he eased his grip and caused one of the curious, studying glances the Omega gave him every few seconds. John hopped he wasn’t scared. He hoped Sherlock felt protected because that was what Sherlock deserved now.

“I think I crossed paths with my soulmate and we had bonded and that shielded me from all other Alphas. It is one of the perks that come with being a Prime,” the way he spat _perks_ made John shiver and his hand climbed higher on the lean leg he was gripping.

Sherlock lowered his eyes to watch the short callused fingers pressing into his flesh. John was strangely non-idiotic creature and that scared Sherlock even more for he couldn’t know what to expect from the small soldier and his blind loyalty.

“Like a soul bond?”

Sherlock nodded without much enthusiasm. John leaned closer and took his other hand, clutching them both over the dirty shirt on Sherlock’s stomach. “It’s going to be alright. I want you to take a rest now and then I want you to tell me everything from the start, okay? I’ll take out some new clothes, change the sheets and pour you a whiskey. You take your time and when you are ready…”

He didn’t take as much time as John would have expected. He was out of the bathroom in ten minutes and even as he was stepping out, his body trembling, he reached for support and sank over John’s shoulder.

John huffed a breath, trying his best to stuff down his worries and fears. He lowered his body to reach under Sherlock’s knees and pulled him in his arms easily. Sherlock was like a feather, the thought pleasantly sweet and scary in his mind. Sherlock was too thin. He ought to feed him, no matter what the man said about his eating habits.

“You said something about whiskey?”

John giggled his hands full of the strangest, yet loveliest Omega he has even encountered. “Well, yes, but not before you take the soup I’ve made you.”

He put Sherlock on the bed and under the safety of the covers. The fresh sheets were soft and pleasantly clean, not like the ones before that where all the dirt from Sherlock’s imprisonment had printed off.

With some more coaxing and hard bargain John convinced Sherlock to eat something. After that, John poured the whiskey and sat by the bed.

“Come here,” Sherlock patted the bed. “It’s more than enough space.”

“No,” John wanted to, oh, did he want to but he couldn’t. But doing so meant he could touch Sherlock, he could reach his hands to him, lean his head against him or entangle their legs together, and that were all the things he was forbidden from doing no matter how much he wanted to. “I am all dirty and bloody.”

“Take a bath then, I can wait.”

“I am sorry, I can’t leave you alone. That’s the order.”

“Then I’ll come with you. You were in the army and you are a doctor, nakedness shouldn’t bother you.”

“It doesn’t,” John said defiantly.

Sherlock smiled a little smile and nodded his head. “What are you waiting for then?”

“I can’t in front of you,” his voice was weak and nervous. If Sherlock could guess his job and the state of his wound without asking, John didn’t dare think what his brilliant mind might come up with here, his weak, shaky voice betraying all kinds of things.

“If you worry about being a naked Alpha in front of me, don’t worry. I’ve seen plenty Savages naked and from every gender no less, and even before I was sent there, I’ve had my fair share of research. Don’t worry. You may be the first Prime for me, but you shouldn’t be that different, right?”

Not deigning it with an answer, John swallowed nervously. “Sherlock?” he started.

“Yes?”

“I know it’s out of nowhere but… where you… in any way abused in this camp? It should’ve been my first question to you but you seem so alive and energetic. I am so sorry for asking but I have to. I need to know.”

“No,” Sherlock said with steel in his voice. “The orders I came with were very clear. They were not to touch me. They hoped I’d beg to be taken and the Savages, all those Alphas, will just torture me with saying _no_ over and over again. The guns they are supplied are more important than an Omega, even an Omega Prime.”

“How many Heats did you have there?”

“Two. But I didn’t beg. I told you, I don’t want just any Alpha, I need someone specific, someone that’s about to emerge in my life really soon.”

“How are you going to know who is it?”

“The name will show on the side of my neck. Right here,” his elegant finger rubbed the skin behind his right ear and John leaned a little over him to see the spot. It was pink and John supposed a name would be present soon.

 _The lucky bastard_ , he thought to himself, rubbing a fist against his leg.

“Okay, so they took this Alpha to you and what happened?”

“He tried to force his way with me but I kicked him out. I wasn’t supposed to be so alert by the end of the first day, but I was and I didn’t want him. He then tried to bite me so he could enforce the strength of the Heat to hit sooner when I stabbed him with my letter opener and… well. When they found us, he was rushed to a hospital and I was under lock and key for a few days. Then they came to me just to explain that I was being transferred into a camp to be taught a lesson about Omegas and submission. I knew it was going to be a Savage camp, that didn’t surprise me much. It is the typical way my family deals with problems. They kick you into danger in hopes it scares you enough to stop you from being out of the norm.”

John didn’t bother to use words. He climbed on the bed, gathering Sherlock in his arms, two long lean arms curving around his middle, the dirt from his uniform sticking to the milky skin of Sherlock’s forearms.

John shielded him between his body and the wall. Sherlock relaxed against him, the curly head easily leaned against the broad chest. John’s tags jiggled and Sherlock turned to nose at them.

It was normal, that was what John tried to convince himself at least. Sherlock was just saved from a harsh environment. He was caged like an animal after all. It was only fair he needed some closeness. Much like John needed to protect him, to know he was safely huddled in his arms.

“I can’t take you back.”

“What do you suggest? This plane is taking us straight to HQ. There is no way we can make an escape from there. Not only the security is sickeningly high, I’d be in Heat.”

“I may have a plan. But you’d have to let me check where the parachutes are.”

Sherlock looked at him curiously. The mischievous grin was there on his face almost as fast as his eyes moved to expect.

_They are under the seats, Captain. Don’t be stupid._


	6. Closer

John studied his phone curiously. There was a text message. He expected a call, an emergency lockdown, not a text message.

_They are under the seats, Captain. Don’t be stupid._

It wasn’t signed, but he already knew the number. Mycroft’s number. He expected the older brother to be the one who sent Sherlock to his faith but then, the Omega did mention _them_ a few times. Maybe, John wasn’t ready to believe his personal assessment on the Holmes family, he wasn’t there quite yet, but just maybe Mycroft may turn out to be an asset rather than threat.

He went to look for the parachutes and when he found them, his next doing was to pack a backpack with all the medicine, food and water he had at his disposure. Making sure Sherlock came back home in perfect health, Mycroft had arranged a vast majority of medical necessities for John to access.

He went back to the room where Sherlock waited. The Omega was laid on the bed, his eyes closed and face relaxed, but he wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t even pretending to be, so John went straight to him and sat on the edge of the bed, nudging his side lightly.

“It is ready for us to go,” he murmured for the benefit on Sherlock’s quite spectacularly tired ears. He had just extracted him from a wild brothel of a kind and gunfire after all.

“Okay,” two beautifully glowing eyes opened and pierced him. “Let’s go!”

Sherlock was halfway out of the bed when the strong hand stopped him. John pushed him lightly, making him go back.

“Not yet,” he commanded, captain voice and all present, playing his best card to make Sherlock pliable. “You are too tired. I want you to take a good rest. Once we go, it’s not going to be soft beds and quiet spaces. Will jump into the wild and make a run. It won’t be pretty and it won’t be a place for an Omega in Heat. Trust me on that.”

Sherlock pouted and then sat up quickly. John was already opening his mouth to protest and his hands were on the man once more, more for the captain’s personal benefit than to try an coax him into laying down.

“You forget where I was a few hours back. I am used to hard conditions and I am not some high-class Prime prince for you to worry about.” His eyes of steel betrayed no else that hard determination and anger. “I can take care of myself. Just let me go and I’ll prepare everything and go on my own. I don’t need you to save me.”

“Yes, you do.”

Their eyes met in silent war.

John wasn’t backing down and neither was Sherlock. They stared hard and cold and then John’s fingers kneaded into the other man’s shoulders. Licking his lips, he lowered his head; voice leveled and tried his best not to sound possessive when he uttered, “I promised to protect you, Sherlock.”

“Then why do you insist I go to sleep inside this flying fortress instead of doing everything possible for us to run?”

“Firstly, because we can run out of here, we’ll jump,” at this Sherlock delivered an epic eye-roll which John masterfully choose to ignore. “Second, everything is ready. The plane was perfectly supplied and I’ve pack everything of importance that I am going to be able to carry. Once you are rested, we go.”

Still pouting, Sherlock leaned back and let John wrap the blankets around him. The soldier was going to go sit but the bed, still anxious to let the Omega on his own in the room, when he felt his touch against his fingers. An elegant fragile hand slid inside his palm, long fingers lacing with short, rough ones.

“You have to stay close,” Sherlock whispered in the peaceful quiet.

“I will. I was going to sit by the end of the bed.”

“No point,” he opposed quickly. “You are unable to be sexually active and I won’t try anything as I already explained my unintentional soul bond. It’s perfectly safe for us to…”

Split between asking how Sherlock did knew and for them to do what exactly, John signed heavily. “You need me to hold you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“I need you to be close.”

John breathed throw his nose. He wanted to be close to Sherlock more than anything. He really did but just as much he realized how bad idea it was. _Soon_ , Sherlock had said, his soul mate was going to come into his life really soon. John knew what was going to happen. He was possessive in nature and indulging in the pull towards Sherlock only meant growing more and more aggressive over sharing him.

Being close to him now meant pain and loneliness and heartbreak. He was alone and soon he was going to hurl himself into a life changing rescue of Omega Prime. An elite Omega Prime with family connected well enough to arrange him being sent to a Savage camp for punishment and have him extracted by high-tech army vessels.

But just as he was possessive, he couldn’t think only about himself. Right now Sherlock needed him and even that John knew it was going to get devastatingly lonely and hard for him later, he needed the Omega too.

So he stepped back, climbed on the bed carefully to lie next to the man.

“How did you know?” he asked almost inaudibly.

“About the sex thing?” Sherlock chuckled darkly. “Do you know the rate of Alpha Primes that doesn’t get a hard on just by the sight of an Omega Prime in pre-heat?”

“I don’t even know the rate of Alpha Prime numbers in our society.”

“Well, you should do a research then,” hot breath burned the side of John’s face and he felt the smile on Sherlock’s face. “Even a simple Alpha can hardly say ‘no’ to a Prime in Heat.”

“Aren’t they supposed to have higher resistance to Omegas than simple people?”

“They,” Sherlock chuckled darkly. “You ought to say ‘we’, soldier,” he buried his head in John’s shoulder and nuzzled at his throat lazily. “And yes, it’s a Prime-Prime thing we have.”

John stayed quiet. His arm circled Sherlock and drew him closer; their bodies flush against each other. Sherlock wrapped himself tightly around John, never minding the dirt and the blood stuck to his uniform.

One of his long legs was insinuated between John’s and Sherlock wriggled, his body soothingly rubbing against the Alpha.

“You are too close,” John rasped, making Sherlock smile.

“No, I am not.”

John’s arms around Sherlock held tighter now, instinctive gesture property of his possessive Alpha nature and his desperate need to have Sherlock close. He smelled clinically clean and minty, his hair a soft tickle on the underside of John’s chin. He was so pure and fragile in the soldier’s hands. John felt pain to think of ever letting go.

Sherlock wriggled once more and nudged his nose along the column of the soft, warm neck presented to his mouth. He didn’t kiss and he didn’t bite, he didn’t say how much he wanted to. Knowing this wasn’t right, he breathed throw his nose once more, drowning his unease in the solid soldier, radiating contentment and safety.

John did his best to keep quiet. His cock gave a hopeful twitch when Sherlock brushed against it a few time and the feeling made John’s head spin with shock. He wasn’t supposed to be responsive, his body was dead.

He clenched his teeth, waiting for Sherlock to go to sleep. Then, he hoped, he could steal a few minutes for a cold shower. He needed it and more than that, he needed to remember his priorities.

First and most important, Sherlock was not to be touched.


	7. Boswell

It was seven hours from landing. The plane stayed firmly on his path, flying over the endless green and brown and yellow lands of the British. John looked out the small window, waiting for the perfect time. He wanted for them to jump somewhere clean and close to a village. The satellite image of the area was open in his lap and he alternated studying it and the view.

Soon after he called Sherlock, obediently waiting in bed, dressed and curiously easily tamed into submission.

Helping him get dressed, John curiously peeked around his neck, searching to see the name. but the skin was still undisturbed, slightly pink and irritated by otherwise untouched.

Now they stood by the sealed door, John giving instructions, adjusting the straps around Sherlock and checking the rope that connected their wrists. He knew it was very dangerous, but he couldn’t risk to loosing Sherlock. And it wasn’t only the rope really; John was full of awful decisions today. He didn’t plan to open a second parachute although he strapped Sherlock in one, just in case.

“When I open the door, hold onto me,” John said calmly and Sherlock clutched his biceps.

He was visibly nervous and John honestly understood him, it was that they didn’t have any other choice right now that helped him make the decision.

“It will be alright. I’ll keep you in my arms when we jump and I’ll tell you when you need to open the parachute.”

“Can’t we be strapped together?”

“No, we don’t have that kind of strap here. We are bound,” and he shacked his wrist with the rope. “And I’ll hold you for as long as I can.”

Sherlock was very sweet when nervous and especially, trying so damn hard to hide all his worries and fears. John brushed his cheekbone with his thumb and smiled in encouragement. “You’ll be alright.”

Sherlock was going to say something, but at the same moment John opened the door and he clutched him tighter.

John nodded, took his hand and pulled Sherlock to himself. They shared a glance and then John jumped, Sherlock on his tow, and they were in the air.

The fall was fast, the strong wind blasting in their faces. Sherlock held onto the soldier’s hand for dear life, his face lit in a broad smile and glowing eyes. They moved around a little, John pulled him close and turned, falling backwards. Sherlock took advantage, moving to straddle him in the air and leaning in unstable manner to bring their faces closer together.

John didn’t have time to react. Sherlock kissed him and he answered immediately. One moment they were just falling and then they were kissing and John lost all senses.

He wasn’t falling anymore, he wasn’t midair. He was with Sherlock and Sherlock was everywhere around him and inside him and within him.

His hands sneaked around the leaner man, pushed him against John’s chest and he flipped them just in time to open his parachute and to push Sherlock aside, pulling his cord as well.

The kiss was abruptly interrupted then, the harsh ending leaving Sherlock shocked. His big eternal eyes pierced John, his bruised mouth still slightly open and vulnerable.

John swore under his breath. He was going to kiss that mouth again and again once they landed on firm ground. Sherlock had no idea what he had done. The possessive monster inside John’s chest was growling with delight. Anticipation prickling his skin, as he adjusted his legs for landing, pulling the rope, connecting him to Sherlock, so he could wake him out of his shock.

“We are landing,” we yelled through the wind and before either of them could do anything else, solid ground crashed them and they were lying in a field of grass.

Shucking his parachute fast, John followed the rope on his wrist to Sherlock, crashed a few meters away. He scrambled for the Omega, fast to take his fixing out of the way.

The moment everything was off, John jumped over him, devouring his mouth in animalistic manner. He took Sherlock to the ground, rolling him into the grass and dirt. It was like they were falling again, only this time John had the ground to help him stabilize himself as he pushed down over Sherlock, rubbing their chest and then, slowly and torturously careful, their groins.

Sherlock buckled and moaned, powerless against the angry, agitated Alpha and his possessive mouth, leaving marks and bruises against the most kissable mouth and neck.

“John…”

He didn’t hear it or if he did, he never made it known. So Sherlock tried again, pushing with hollow will against the broad shoulders over him.

“John!”

The Alpha stopped. He moved back a little and shook his head.

“Oh my god!” he scrambled to get away immediately. Sherlock reach to bring him back, but John refused to let Sherlock touch him. “I am so sorry! Really, I am.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved to sit next to John.

“We must go. We need to find a safe house.”

“What kind of safe house?”

“An Alpha-Omega establishment, I found it on a map in the plane. The rooms are isolated and the attendance is slow this time of year. It must be nearly empty and I think this kind of place is the perfect one for you to get through your Heat.”

Sherlock frowned. “We need to talk about some things before we make any decisions about _that_ ,” he stresses on the last word and John couldn’t blame him. Not after what he had just done, kissing him like crazy.

“Let’s do that once you are safely settled into the compound, okay?”

He was watching the ground steadily, guilt eating through him, when Sherlock stepped closer, making this final distance between them disappear. His long finders insinuated themselves under John’s chin and pushed it up. Sherlock leaned slowly, kissed him chastely on the mouth and smile, one simple “Okay,” dangling on his lips.

John stayed quiet. He knew saying something now could only make thing worse. So he shut his mouth and gathered Sherlock to move.

It wasn’t far down on the road, when Sherlock stopped abruptly and called for John to stop as well.

“Come here,” he said and John rushed, thinking that maybe the Heat was staring early or an injury has occurred.

But it wasn’t both.

Sherlock was touching the tips of his finger to his neck. He looked eager and excited, deep contrast to the gut-deep dread that poured inside John. He didn’t want to think about the name, less be the one to see it first and tell it to Sherlock.

“What does it say?” he asked, looking down his nose at John’s bitter expression.

“Lower yourself a little,” the solder grumbled.

Sherlock did, obedient and genuinely excited.

John took his time. He slowly pushed the inky curl out of the way. He brushed his fingers around the long, beautiful neck, then the curve between shoulder and neck. And the, he looked, hands cold and heart trembling.

“What does it say?!” Sherlock almost yelled and John bit the inside of his mouth to keep it shut. “Tell me! Now!”

John was stone cold. It was hard to move and impossible to talk.

Looking at Sherlock right now, he wanted to scream, to run and destroy and take revenge. He wanted to claim him and worship him and that, all that he could never do.

“It says… hmm, it says Boswell,” he frowned. “Maybe it’s some lord or an Alpha from the high class.”

Sherlock was scarily quiet. John nudged him slightly with his shoulder and when it didn’t work, he carefully wrapped his arm around his waist. Around the waist of Mr. Boswell’s Omega, he told himself and his heart missed a beat in anger.

His fingers dug into Sherlock’s side and he moved him closer to himself, moving without even realizing he was doing it.

The Omega turned to look at him, the stare of his eyes devoid of its usual strength. A tear clung to the corner of his eye.

“It was supposed to be you,” he said, impossibly quiet. “I don’t understand. It was supposed to be you.”


	8. Changes

Sherlock was absolutely numb, not saying a word all the way to the resort and while John was registering them. He said the first two names coming to his mind and lied they came here to bond in intimacy, away from the big city and all its nosy residents.

Sherlock stayed crumpled against his shoulder, one of John’s arms constantly closed around him so the other Alphas mulling around could know he was taken and not just by anyone.

The military uniform and the guns made John quite the show and both Alpha and Omega men and women stopped to stare.

His smell was imprinted on Sherlock by now. Although it shouldn’t have happened, it did and John felt the constant sniff from Sherlock, smelling and scenting him, diving in their shared scents. He pulled the man closer, kissing his neck absentmindedly and smiled pleasantly at the receptionist.

“Room 1022, sir,” he handed the key and showed them to the staircase.

John thanked and nudged Sherlock to move. They climbed the stairs, declining the offer for help from the valet. They didn’t need anyone staying close. No need for more people knowing that Sherlock was a Prime. The receptionist had almost made a comment before realizing John was a Prime too and no one in their right mind opposed an Alpha Prime.

The room was relatively nice, neither chokingly small, nor too big. It was intimate and warm, the king-sized bed engulfing Sherlock the moment John laid him over the covers. He patted his head, kissed his forehead before heading to take off his backpack and check the windows.

He sniffed the bathroom, secured the door and pulled the curtains, looking around like a guard god. He was a bit too paranoid to be healthy but even the thought of someone getting to Sherlock, especially his family, made his chest burst with anger.

John didn’t dare think about Boswell. He checked every name tag on the staff. No Boswell there and he tried to peek at the guest book at the reception but managed to only glance at half a dozen names.

No Boswell there too, so maybe Sherlock wasn’t crossing paths with him here.

Maybe Boswell was going to be the one powerful enough to save him. Maybe once on the run they were going to encounter someone as brilliant, elegant and beautiful as Sherlock and he was going to take him away from John and help him live safely and happily.

The only option John had for Sherlock was for them to run for as long as they could manage. Not a very good prospect for an active mind like Sherlock. And certainly not the life one deserved after being saved from a rebel camp.

He needed to be secure and safe, to feel protected and to reintegrate in the society.

“Stop thinking,” Sherlock said from the bed, breaking the glass box around John.

He turned to look at the man on the bed. He was so beautiful, so lovable and kissable. John wanted to get rid of everything and dive inside him. John wanted to devour him, take him down to pieces and slowly built him back together.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, unpacking the essentials absent-mindedly. “I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“No,” Sherlock sat and leaned against the headboard. “I am the one to be sorry. You were sent to extract a nameless Omega. I made you throw away all your life, all your career and for what? For bloody Boswell. I am truly sorry, soldier. I am.”

John snickered. “Why did you think it was going to be me?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to me,” he huffed and Sherlock suddenly became a perfect depicture of annoyance.

“I told you I felt some time ago…”

“You never said how long ago.”

“Four months ago… I felt I had made a soul bond, our paths have crossed in some way and sooner or later someone was going to come into my life and change it, quite drastically at that. So when they sent you to extract me I logically thought it had to be you. You were perfect, you think me not an annoying freak, but brilliant. You smell the perfect smell of sand and blood I smelled the moments I needed it the most. And then, you decided to throw away your life for me. It’s a big soul mate sign if you add it to the whole picture.”

John nodded to himself, patting a hand over his knee, “I shared your scent too,” he said quietly. He didn’t dare pick his head up. “This clinical and pure smell that you have.”

“It’s quite obvious then,” Sherlock said, sounding final on the matter. “The sign is wrong.”

“It can’t be wrong, that’s the problem.”

“But it is!” Sherlock jumped and kneeled on the bed, scrambling to come to the end, so he could be closer to John. He was too clever, John smiled to himself. Sherlock knew perfectly well how his closeness would affect the Alpha. “I am attracted to you, and that’s a first for me. I have never been attracted to anyone in my life, even before the soul bond. And your body is finally doing something good for you. I felt you last night. You were…”

“Yes, Sherlock, I was but I shouldn’t be. I was inappropriate. I am here to protect you, not to put you into danger.”

“I am not in danger if you want me.”

“Yes, you are!” worked up to his core, John shouted. Sherlock leaned back and sat on his legs. “I am a big damn danger to you, you hear me? Because if I am here, with you, I’ll take you, I’ll take off all your clothes and I’ll fuck all your brilliant brains out! And the worst part?” He wasn’t sitting anymore. He had jumped on his feet and closer to the bed. Sherlock didn’t move, but he shivered, his pupils dilated. “The worst part is I won’t think, I’ll bond you and I’ll kill whoever tries to take you away. That’s the worst thing I could ever imagine, Sherlock, because you belong to someone else. To Boswell, whoever he is, wherever he is. You are his and that’s it.”

Sherlock slowly stepped off the bed. He inched closer to the soldier, head up but shoulders hunched a little. His eyes betrayed fear when he stepped inside John’s personal space.

“You can bond me, before he does,” he whispered into John’s ear.

John laughed. It was a sad and lonely sound in the heavy silence of the room.

“He could break the bond, Sherlock.”

“You are a Prime. The chances for him to be a Prime too are too slim to be considered too much.”

“Okay then, what happens when you meet him and prefer him over some broken old soldier?”

Sherlock looked him in the eyes. He wore an expression of disbelief, the irony clear behind the watery stare. “You don’t even know who that man is and you already made him into a hero.”

“I only have realistic expectations,” sneered John.

Sherlock smiled. “I don’t.”

“Sherlock…”

He didn’t give him time to finish his sentence. Whatever John wanted to say didn’t matter now. Sherlock covered his mouth with his lips and John couldn’t waste any more time. He kissed him, desperation and sorrow pouring into the kiss, their breaths mingling and their bodies tied around each other.

John pushed Sherlock backwards, put his hands under his arse and lifted him into the air, long legs wrapping around his waist, a hand around his shoulders and another around his dog tags, taking them out from under his shirt and rolling them between clever fingers.

Once to the bed, John pushed the covers away and laid Sherlock beneath himself. The man was already shucking clothes off before John could remember what were they doing and when he decided it was a good idea to shutter his heart.

His shirt came off over his head, just after Sherlock’s clothes and he turned to take off his shoes and pants.

Naked, he laid over Sherlock, nuzzling his neck, soft bites and kisses peppering to rosy skin. Sherlock was quiet verbal. He moaned and whimpered and John’s name was on his lips every time his teeth sank into the skin.

“I can’t,” John whispered against a bony shoulder.

Sherlock stopped his hand on John’s arse and the other around his bicep. He looked at John, his eyes full with the immense sadness of a broken man.

The Alpha kissed him on the lips and then the eyes. “I want you, Sherlock, but I can’t have you.”

“It’s alright,” he whispered, averting his eyes. He shimmied and tried to move away from John. His erection was firmly pressed against Sherlock’s belly, the whole moving process made even weirder. “It’s understandable.”

John helped him into his army shirt and Sherlock wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the dirty shirt engulf him with John’s smell. He turned, burying himself in the pillows and let John pull the covers over his stark naked arse and legs.

The satellite phone in the backpack churned and John got up to take it. It was a text, Mycroft again.

_Do you not find him pleasing?_

John drew a sharp breath. How the man did know to ask that? Did he know where they were? Because he knew they had jumped, he had even helped, not much needed help but still something on his part.

 _What is the meaning of that?_ He texted back quickly and went back to the bed, phone in hand. He climbed under the cover, having put only his pants back on, and he relaxed slightly, feeling Sherlock moving and hearing his even breaths.

_You won’t be the first one. Imagine it was someone else, maybe?_

_I won’t do anything to you. If he wants you to have him and if you think you can try, you can._

_I can pay you generously to be good to him. Do what he needs you to do._

John studied the texts before turning to Sherlock. “You know I find you beautiful, right?”

“What?” The ball of blankets moved and Sherlock’s face showed close to the elbow John was resting on the pillows.

“You are the most beautiful creature, Sherlock. I don’t want you thinking otherwise. And I don’t lie to yourself that I don’t find you attractive. You are insanely sexy. You felt how my body reacted, both tonight and last night.”

Sherlock frowned and then sat up quickly.

“What is this?” He demanded and then eyes the phone suspiciously. “He knows, doesn’t he? How much he promised to pay you?”

He scrambled out of the bed, fast as lightning. At first John didn’t quite understand him and then to connected the dots.

“He offered, I didn’t bother to reply,” he said simply. “Having you would be the best reward but I told you. I can’t.”

Sherlock sneered. “I’ve heard it all before. Sad thing is, I didn’t want any of the others. They scared me, they were rude and stupid. All of them total idiots. But you should really take the money, you know. You sell the lie really well. You deserve it.”

“Sherlock!” John kneeled on the bed, this time it was his turn, but he didn’t move beside that. He was Captain Watson now, hands crossed on his chest, eyes steel blue and body ramrod. “You are beautiful for me! I am sorry I won’t break my heart for you but I can’t. Look at me! It hurts like hell now, when I still hadn’t had the chance to know how… I’ll die when he comes, Sherlock. I’ll die.”

Tentatively, he stepped closer and John pulled him to the bed.

“Let’s sleep now. Do you mind that?”

“Can you at least hold me?” Sherlock stood by the bed, looking like a lost child.

John’s heart was breaking; even more now when _that_ had happened and he had a whole new aspect of horror in Sherlock’s life to consider.

Unwanted even by the paid Alphas, John almost snored, thinking about it. Sherlock was amazing, brilliantly smart and sharp-minded, all hard edges and lean angels alongside his sexy mouth and starry eyes. And his cheekbones, John could’ve spent days and nights kissing them

“Yes, come here,” he motioned for the man to come closer and gathered him in his arms.

John leaned against the bed-frame, Sherlock snuggled against him, pulling the covers over them half-heartedly.

“Sherlock,” John didn’t really want to shake the peaceful quiet that fell around them but his mind was eating at him.

The Omega looked up from his place over John’s chest. “My father used to pay Alphas so they would spend my Heats with me. I never wanted anyone, not really, but no one has ever wanted me in return. That made my family very displeased with me as you can imagine.”

“Have they ever…”

“No, John. They simply didn’t want me. People don’t usually see me as brilliant or beautiful. They see me as a freak sociopath. Who knows how they’ll label you once they catch upon your praise.”

“Fuck them,” he whispered angrily and kissed Sherlock’s head. “And fuck me. If you’ll have me, I’ll spend your Heat with you.”


	9. Marks

“I don’t feel so good,” Sherlock whined after a couple-hour nap. His mop of curly hair moved around on the pillow and his body shivered under the covers.

John turned from the table to inspect him. He put the gun he was cleaning of the table and moved to the bed, gently rubbing at Sherlock’s back.

The man purred and turned, shifting closer towards the warmth of John’s body.

“Your Heat’s starting,” John informed him. He felt his throat dry and scratchy. His own words seemed hard to swallow and the air in the room suddenly thick and hot.

“Are you still…” Sherlock tried but John’s abrupt “Yes,” stopped him short of asking his damn question.

Suddenly angry at the world, John moved from the bed and back to his gun. He put everything back together and bagged it, just in case.

Not that any gun would be needed once Sherlock’s Heat started. If someone tried to get close to the Omega, John’s Alpha nature was much more dangerous and murderous than any weapon.

He then proceeded to bring food and water close to the bed and to rummage for contraceptives, which were available both in his backpack and the room goodie-bag. He picked out everything needed from his backpack, trusting the HQ supplies a tad better than the hotel’s.

“Are you sure you want it?” Sherlock was tentative in asking and the tremor in his voice made John actually snort with laughter.

He stepped closer and kneeled on the bed, sitting close to Sherlock, so he could feel the Alpha but not touch him. “I don’t know who the idiots you were brought to before were and frankly, I don’t want to know because if I find out, I’d kill them all. All I care for right now is you. But I need to know you trust me. I am in this to the neck and I’m going to drown myself but I prefer that then never… than never knowing you like this, never having you for my own, even if it’s going to be just for this one Heat cycle.”

Head bowed, Sherlock nodded, scarcely making his way to catch John’s hand.

The Alpha moved closer, engulfing the elegant palm in his own callused and imperfect one. They clutched at one another before John lowered his head, arranging their mouths so he could kiss Sherlock freely.

“I didn’t plant for this to happen,” he murmured with a soft smile against Sherlock’s lips. The Omega smiled back, his happiness bleeding into John throw the still fragile bond they had developed the moment their eyes first met. The same bond that made them crave the other one and reach for the other and search for their bond over any other. “When they called me after the battle, I thought my major just wanted to try his luck with me again. I didn’t except your fancy brother…”

“Don’t talk about my brother!” Sherlock hissed, nails possessively digging in John’s sides as John smiled broadly and quite smugly.

“Then the HQ and well, everything that happened, I didn’t expect you to be so alive and amazing.”

“Aren’t you happy?”

“You belong to Boswell.”

“Don’t talk about that man!” Sherlock hissed again and this time he rolled John to the side, striding him and leaning down to kiss him. It was a deep, filthy kiss that left them both panting and breathless, happy but also immensely lonely.

Sherlock didn’t want to hear the name of his soul bond. He wanted only John, perfect, compact John, a soldier and a doctor, one man to give life with the same ease he practiced in taking it. The perfect companion for a man like Sherlock. The perfect Alpha for a restless Omega with the taste of adventure imprinted on his genes.

“I am ready,” he whispered quietly against John’s neck.

A rumble rose in the Alpha’s chest as he inhaled and his hands closed securely around Sherlock. John kept him flush against his chest, hands checking his wet opening and trailing slowly on his inner tights, making him shiver.

“No, you are not,” a finger circled his opening and Sherlock moaned loud, his body reading itself for the Heat and the Alpha, ready to ease it.

“I don’t want to be completely out of it. I want to remember it. If you are right and it’s only this once, I want to remember as much of it as I can.”

“You’ll focus, won’t you?”

“Yes,” he nodded with the sneaky smile. “I want all my focus onto you.” John shifted and grabbed for more purchase against the thin body. Sherlock snickered. “It turns you on,” he managed between little huffs and moans.

John rumbled and shifted so he could top Sherlock and spread him as he wanted him on the bed, legs wide apart around John’s middle and that beautiful body of his all in reach to be touched and kissed. Their eyes met for a second and they kissed as soon, diving into one another.

His cock ached. He was painfully ready to take Sherlock, to mark him as his own.

Maybe he’d bite him. Not on the mark, John didn’t want Sherlock to be forced through the torture of breaking a bond. It was painful and quite dangerous for an Omega. An Alpha could survive it easily, it was the pain that dissuaded Alphas from breaking bonds but for the Omegas it was completely different.

Their whole bodies changed and the implications were devastating for finding a potential suitor once after the first bond had been broken.

“John?” Sherlock sat, his face close to John’s chest as he hovered over him. “You froze,” he said tentatively.

John shook his head. He has frozen, thinking about the bond and all the Alpha/Omega relations he and Sherlock could not have.

He eased down and pushed Sherlock back onto the bed.

“I am sorry,” he captured Sherlock’s lips and devoured his mouth into a dirty kiss only because he could.

Because now Sherlock was bloody _his_. Beautiful, virginal, all brilliant Sherlock was his tonight and John was going to bite him. Somewhere save, somewhere protected where no one but his Alpha would see.

And the bastard deserved to see it and know that there was someone else before him.

He fucked him slow, taking his time and giving Sherlock everything he needed. He didn’t let himself come for a long time. They fucked and then again and his knot slowly started growing until he was sheeted safely inside the Omega. His head bowed to Sherlock’s shoulder, John moved a little and then they came together and in the haziness of post-orgasm bliss, John lowered his head and whispered, “I’ll bite you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock buckled and shouted and then came again and again. And his Heat was in full force, taking them both into oblivion.

Panting, they stayed still for a while, waiting for John’s knot to contract. He pulled out slowly, Sherlock’s body convulsing under his as Sherlock reached for the Alpha and tried to burry himself into his chest.

John pushed him back and moved down on the bed, Sherlock’s hands moving after him. John positioned himself on his hip, licking lightly on the perfect spot he had found and kissing it.

“You sure?” Sherlock slurred as he watched his motions with interest. He had never thought there would be an Alpha wanting to brand him. He was a freak, every Alpha until now has seen it. Every Alpha, except John and John was special.

“I must be the one asking,” the soft rumble tickled against his skin, making him shiver again and Sherlock drew a sharp breath.

He didn’t answer, only nodded and that was more than enough for John.

He licked the spot once more, kissed it for good measure and sunk his teeth into the pure skin.

Sherlock winced at first, he had only felt John’s canines bite softly into his neck or lip but the bite was exquisite.

John moved up, admiring his work. His hand didn’t move from Sherlock’s undamaged hip as he pulled him for himself and slowly led him to spread himself open once more.

The Omega smiled broadly and pulled him close. He kissed his neck and nipped at his shoulder, close to the healed wound. John let his full weight to anchor Sherlock. Not one of them wanted to lose himself into what was coming.

Sherlock wrapped his legs around John. His mind fogged with want and hunger, body alert by the constant presence of John’s weight, laid over him.

Could hours later John curled next to Sherlock, enjoying the peace and quiet for a moment. The euphoria died away, Sherlock stayed still, naked and close to John, face nested close to his neck. They were slowly getting down form the high, bodies trembling with post-orgasm trill.

“You alright?” John wondered, lips in perfect angle to kiss Sherlock’s ear.

The man mumbled something intangible before burying deeper into the embrace. He seemed out of it, not yet sleeping but headed there.

On the other side, John was buzzing with energy. He felt overpowered and ready to fight. It was so good to be with Sherlock, to take him down to pieces and built him back together. John knew now there was no way he could let his soul mate claim him. It would take Sherlock picking the man over John for the soldier to work the energy to back off.

He silently begged for Sherlock to want him. Not any other Alpha, but him, the ragged broken soldier that felt ready to die before he could let Sherlock go.

Not fifteen minutes later, while John was still thinking over his attachment, Sherlock lifter his head. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, hand sliding over John’s chest and round his middle. John almost hadn’t noticed the strong smell of him, rising with the rush of the Heat once more.

“Hello,” Sherlock purred into his ear, his smile bleeding into the velvety murmur.

John smiled back, a broad, happy grin splitting his face as he turned his head to face Sherlock. “Come here,” he pulled him closer with a smooth move under the covers.

Sherlock straddled him easily, his wet opening edging against John’s cock.

The Alpha growled, head thrown back. His hands slid around Sherlock, slowly exploring his back then sliding to his front and catching onto two bony hips.

“How do you want it?” John asked as they shifted, moving together to find the perfect angle and pace.

“Slow,” Sherlock trailed, devilish smile painting his features. He leaned to nuzzle at John and the Alpha kept him close with a hand on his nape, fingers buried with inky curls.

One hour later and utterly spent and satisfied, John fell on the bed and immediately went to sleep. He missed on his nap before the round and immediately went down, while Sherlock was more alert than ever and he even got a plant in mind.

As John tried to clutch Sherlock to himself, the man slipped expertly and got out of bed. He checked if John was asleep before he went for the satellite phone. It was still on the table next to John’s head when he snatched it. He looked around one last time, fidgeting uncomfortably while he composed a text message.

_Who’s Boswell? SH_


	10. Taken

John woke early, it was still early dawn when he blinked his eyes open, his head dizzy with happiness. He didn’t have much to be happy about, Sherlock may have spent a Heat with him but that was about it. It was one Heat and one bite that wouldn’t last forever. The bond was weakening with every passing minute and although it wouldn’t fade from his skin, his soul mate could easily bite it over and place another mark of himself on his Omega.

Boswell’s. Not John’s.

Sherlock was snuggled against him, their legs tangled, hands around their bodies. His hot breath made John shiver but he didn’t find the strength to move away from it. Even if it was painful it was all he could get and he wanted to savor it.

From their very first kiss he knew they were saying goodbye rather than starting something to last but it was special and it was theirs. He was going to be the first Alpha for Sherlock forever. That was the one thing Boswell couldn’t get from him. Not only that, but he was the first to bite him, to mark his as his own.

No matter that Boswell was going to be the one to keep him forever, John was the first.

The thought didn’t give much comfort. He shifted nervously suddenly furious at his own luck and cursing his destiny and Sherlock’s bloody soul bond. If it wasn’t for it they may have never met and John hated the idea, but there weren’t going to be any Boswell in the way too.

His clenched fists grabbed the covers around Sherlock, fingers digging into the lovely warm skin underneath. The Omega shifted, scooting closer, draped over John’s torso.

His Heat was seated for some time. Subside for some hours of sleep and rest. And then, by noon his body was going to want its own again and drag them into oblivion. John couldn’t think of that right now. He was ready to go any moment Sherlock wanted him and it had nothing to do with his Heat or the Alpha-Omega nature.

It was pure want. Maybe love if John was stupid enough to let the crazy thought to his hungry mind.

“Stop thinking,” Sherlock grumbled, shifting so he could get his mouth to John’s neck. He kissed him, languid and lazy, and rubbed his hands to every centimeter of skin he could get to.

“Good morning to you too,” the Alpha smiled and the happiness bled into his raspy morning voice. He chanted Sherlock’s name so much through the night he thought he wouldn’t remember other words in the morning. “Did all my thinking wake you?”

“No,” like a cat, Sherlock purred and stretched, not bothering to move away, rubbing his naked form against John’s skin.

No one had pulled the curtains, John didn’t want to risk being watched by Sherlock’s nosy brother or abusive family, and he had no idea of the time. It must’ve been around 8 a.m. for he felt guilty staying in bed but could not find the will to get away from Sherlock, exquisitely naked and his under the covers.

“My Heat has subdued,” Sherlock said matter-of-factly.

John breathed through the nose and shook his head, “But it isn’t over yet.”

“It isn’t. We may have some time. We need to plan our next move. The Heat won’t last more than day or two more.”

“It may last a week, if…”

“Don’t!” Sherlock moved away as if he was hit. He sat between the covers, back straight, eyes stormy. “I forbid you mention that. You are here now and I am here now. And that’s how it’s going to be.”

“No, it won’t. Any day now your soul mate will enter and our balloon will burst.”

“It won’t,” Sherlock pouted and moved to the edge of the bed, putting a robe and getting up angrily. He moved for the phone. The message he was waiting for was there, only it didn’t read what he had expected it to read.

_The name may not be most popular, Sherlock, but it can’t belong to a single man. Boswell who am I looking for? MH_

Sherlock growled and sent the phone to the wall.

“Sherlock!” John jumped out of the bed and went for it. He took it and read the screen in search of what had made Sherlock so angry. “What is this?” he held the phone to Sherlock’s face, his own contorted with fury.”

“It was only logical,” Sherlock said much calmer now. “It should have been your Agency name. They should have given you a name before they sent you here. They don’t just call you John Watson. You are someone else, something else.”

“And you thought I was Boswell?”

Sherlock went eerie quiet. He turned his back to John to start pacing to room, palms together under his chin. His dark curls bounced around his head slightly as he moved around.

“Yes,” he said at last, so quiet John almost missed it as it slipped. His plush lips were red, worried with his teeth and his eyes were glassed and blurry on the verge of tears.

John stepped closer, took him to his arms and cradled the lean body. Carefully he moved Sherlock to the bed and they lied down, Sherlock underneath John’s shorted but bigger frame as he engulfed him in strong and rather possessive embrace.

“It’s alright,” he murmured and kissed Sherlock’s ear. “It’s alright, he will be so good to you, love, so, so good and he’ll love you so much.”

Sherlock shook his head, sobs breaking his breath. John knew his hormones made him weak headed and emotional but he also knew how much he wanted to be Sherlock’s Alpha. He didn’t dare imagine Sherlock wanted him so much as well, that Sherlock hoped for his name to be on his skin in place of Boswell’s.

“It may be a mistake,” Sherlock rasped, voice unsteady. “Maybe it is you and there is no one else.”

John cradled him to himself and held him a little closer. He hated to think how weak Sherlock could become if depression settled now. A Heat tended to make both Alphas and Omegas emotional and to play with their heads but it was dangerous to let the strong emotional response take control.

John needed to assure the Omega everything was alright. It was his duty as a partner and right now, John was ready to bite the head of every bloody idiot who dared tell him he wasn’t Sherlock’s partner or his rightful Alpha.

“Listen to me, okay?” he gathered Sherlock to lie on his chest and moved so he could see his face as he talked. He didn’t really know what to say or how to say it but Sherlock’s needed to calm down and all he had now was a broken soldier. They’d have to make due. “He isn’t here yet. I am and it’ll be as if my name was on your skin and now his. I’ll protect you and I’ll help you with whatever you need, I’m ready to be an Alpha if you need one or a friend, or an assistant, or an accomplice. Truth is I am ready to be whatever you need me to be right now. No Boswell and no more Alphas who couldn’t understand how amazing you are. Just me. Is that alright?”

Sherlock grumbled and growled but he nodded before burring his face to John’s neck and biting down slightly into the skin. He couldn’t mark him, an Omega couldn’t bond an Alpha before the Alpha has bonded the Omega but it was a mark and somewhere where everyone would know what it meant.

He licked and kissed the spot a few times before reaching his hand for the mobile on the table next to the bed. “Give me the phone, I need to text Mycroft.”

“Why?” John stretched his hand to reach the mobile and gave it to Sherlock. “Do you think it’s the best idea in the middle of your Heat?”

“We have no time and I need information. It is the best idea.”

John stayed quiet as Sherlock took the mobile to compose the message.

_I need all of them. SH_

_And John Watson’s Agency alias. SH_

The answer didn’t come as fast as both of them hoped.

Sherlock spent the day pacing around, complaining about the pain in his head and the spasms of the Heat. John wanted to offer his help but stayed away from doing so as he knew Sherlock needed to have his information before the Heat started in full force again.

The problem was Mycroft hadn’t answered hours later as well and the spams got worse.

John kissed him all over, sucked him off just to entertain his hungry body but if they continued they’d trigger the Heat and it was still too soon for Sherlock to lose it.

He buzzed with need but his need to know, to figure it out was stronger and John lied quietly between his legs, head on Sherlock’s hip and drew circles on his skin just so he could find an excuse to touch him.

He has so much to do. They needed a plan, they didn’t even know where to go once after the Heat was over and they had to leave the resort. All he wanted to do was be here with Sherlock though and he couldn’t be arsed to think about much else.

Sherlock’s skin was hot to the touch and his breath heavy, and John had already decided he couldn’t stand the smell of Heat anymore, when the phone pinged and drew them both out of their haze.

_I’ll email you a list if you so wish. The name is classified. Be safe, Sherlock. There are people out there looking for you two. My people are on the way as well just to be sure no one gets to you. MH_

Sherlock huffed and mumbled something intangible under his breath. “The idiot,” he grumbled louder then and John moved to read over his shoulder.

“He didn’t tell you my code name,” he said. “It probably isn’t Boswell.”

“We can’t know for sure. He is a git, if he decided he’ll never tell me but I need to know for sure.”

“And you will, once we get out of this mess. Whose are these people after us?”

“My family’s most likely.”

“Mycroft is your family.”

“No, he is my brother. Father has always had different idea for our lived than us. And knowing I am on the run had probably made him furious.”

A dangerous growl rose in John’s chest and he moved closer still and grabbed Sherlock around the middle as hard as he could without choking him. “We’ll be alright,” he said as he kissed him and Sherlock was going to say something, something bad and dark and probably true, but John didn’t let him.

Instead of that, he climbed to sit on the bed, Sherlock straddling him and he kissed him again, waiting for just the perfect opportunity to bite him again. Maybe this time he’d bite him somewhere visible so everyone could know and mostly so could Boswell could know that Sherlock was taken.


	11. Future

They hoped they had another day or two just to realize they had none.

John went to take coffee and something for Sherlock to eat, having him too exhausted after the Heat and all the months in a cage. The first time the two big Alphas at the reception didn’t really bother him but at his coming back, he noticed there were two more and all of them heavily armored and asking all too much questions.

The receptionist didn’t see him and thank god, because he would’ve recognized him and it was all over with them both right then and there.

John ran to their room threw food and coffee at Sherlock and instructed him to eat and drink up while getting dressed. They had five minutes and they had to make a run. John had already got a plan for what to do if anything like this happened and all his guns were at the ready and the backpack with their little belonging waited on the table.

“Who are they?” Sherlock asked already dressed and gulping coffee.

“They aren’t HQ, they are not in uniform, nor do they have the seal. They must be your father’s dogs.”

Sherlock scoffed and handed his coffee so John could finish it and they were on the move. They ran through corridors and to the roof and down the chimneys and the ivy overgrown around the house. They landed close to the back garden and managed to sneak around the hedge and to the woods close by.

“They are smarter than I thought,” Sherlock said sourly five hours later when they first decided to stop for a longer rest. It was still bright and sunny and they wanted to use as much daylight as possible but their bodies started giving up some time ago.

“Why do you say so?”

“They found us, it is enough reason,” Sherlock sneered, utterly lost in his mind. He needed to feel grounded, to come back to reality where hope was still present and John was warm and solid and there to protect them both.

John sat between the roots of an old tree and Sherlock sneaked closer so he could bury his face in his shoulder. He breathed deep and washed in the calming scent of his partner.

“What do you suggest?” John asked at last when he had Sherlock safely in his arms and the world suddenly felt all his. He was ready to do everything now, knowing he’d do it with Sherlock.

He felt for his gun at his side, just to be sure, and Sherlock’s hand covered his, rubbing their palms against the handle of the army issued gun.

“There should be a small village not far from here, we should pass it and leave some markings of our presence before noon. Then we make a run for the next bigger town so we could mingle with a lot of people.”

John nodded, his hands circling Sherlock possessively with his curly hair safely against the soldier’s shoulder, placed perfectly to be kissed and caressed. It seemed like the more the danger closed to them and the chances of Boswell showing up rose the more John couldn’t find it in himself to be separated from Sherlock, even by a mere meters.

They went on foot to the farmer village Sherlock knew of and seemingly took a room in the only inn in town. Soon after getting to their room they slipped from the back and made a run for the dirty roads cutting the forest.

It was another twelve hours of walking, running and falling slack against each other before they reached a bigger town and managed to sneak to a small, dirty motel in the middle of the night when no one was awake enough to make much of their faces.

John was hasty to make Sherlock sleep as the Omega was wobbly and unstable on his legs for hours now. His Alpha nature made John extra nervous and Sherlock found himself safely wrapped in caring hands and constant looking after.

“What do we do now?” John asked quietly. “We can’t run all our lives.”

“I have to,” Sherlock murmured, not looking up to see John’s face. “If I ever get back, they’d bond me and send me away.”

“What if you tell them about the soul bond?” John pushed up on his elbow and propped his chin against Sherlock’s shoulder.

“There is no Alpha with the bond and my family only cares for the Alpha that comes with a bond.”

John was quiet for a few minutes, drawing lazy circles on Sherlock’s hip with his fingers.

His hand trembled from time to time. The injury on his shoulder making it hard to use his dominant hand but in times of trouble it was iron. He forgot the pain and the stress and sometimes that he even had a healing wound.

It was enough he didn’t put any effort into easing the use of his arm but forgetting it was even injured was clear sign how deep his intoxication with Sherlock went.

“If Boswell doesn’t show up by then…”

“John,” Sherlock moved nervously and angled his head so he could look at John. “What are you about to propose is far too dangerous and mostly for you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he smiled ruefully as he shook his head. “I am damaged goods, a broken old soldier. My shoulder is badly wounded, I have a tremor in my hand and it I wouldn’t be able to do much of what I did before. I wouldn’t be able to perform a surgery as well as hold a gun properly. My dominant hand has a tremor. I can’t be anything I have been until now. With or without you in my life, I am damaged.”

“They didn’t choose you because of the wound,” Sherlock said reassuringly as his fingers travelled to study the injured shoulder.

“They choose me for my skill set but getting injured would assure me both an early retirement and an army pension.”

Sherlock turned fully and moved to straddle him. John leaned back as he leaned closer to meet their lips and kiss him softly.

It was amazing how good they fit together. John hardly believed how right it felt kissing Sherlock. It was like he was his, absolutely, undoubtedly his.

He pushed the curls as the nape of his neck to find the bite. Firm, hardened fingers rubbed at the sensitive skin right along the edge of the bite.

“Please, Sherlock,” he mumbled as they parted for breath.

“What is it?”

“Let me be a ruse, I know I want to do it. You get to be free and go home and I get a little more time with you.”

Sherlock signed. “It isn’t fair to you,” he said.

“It’s more than I can hope for right now. After you I have no chance of finding a partner.”

“After me you have no chance of staying alive. Father will have you killed the moment he sees you replaceable.”

“It’s all the same to me.”

“I can’t live with you dead.”

John smiled, the sweet feeling of loving Sherlock growing stronger in his chest. “Then will figure that out along the way. For now we’ll go back to London and we’ll present together bonded.”

“Yes…” Sherlock’s eyes glowed in the dark of the room and John licked his lips with predatory smile. “And no one will touch you, because you’ll be the one to give them their heir.”

“And you’ll be free to be whoever you want to be.”


	12. Road

London wasn’t the place for a lone Prime these days. As Prime Alphas were feared and looked at with the usual doze of resentment and jealousy. But in London, the heart of the Empire and the New World, it wasn’t easy for an Alpha Prime.

They were often hunted and killed or captured like wild animals. Sometimes high class guests enjoyed Alpha Primes at clubs and brothels but the dangers of it were too high for the experience to be desired by many.

An Omega Prime was much safer although almost as rare to find. Primes slowly went extinct with time and by the rise of the Empire most Alpha Primes were all at the battle line and Omega Primes were captured to be married between The League of the Blue Blood Families.

Auction houses sold Omegas weekly at high and low class held parties and young eligible Alphas enjoyed the experience as it eased the search for a suitable partner.

John was well aware of how London functioned from the first moment he took Sherlock to the train station and bought them tickets to the capital. He had Mycroft on alert, his people present but invisible at the meeting point to towns from them and he generally felt calm about the whole proceeding of taking Sherlock back.

They hadn’t told the whole plan to Mycroft yet. He only knew John planned to mark Sherlock and present himself as his Alpha. He didn’t quite know yet that once secure in London, they planned on bonding. Nor that Sherlock had declared he didn’t care about his potential soul mate and only wanted John.

It was normal for an Omega after spending a Heat with an Alpha for a first time. Vice versa, John was hooked on the Omega and couldn’t imagine his life without him. The problem for John was that it wasn’t just the Heat. He was head over heels for Sherlock much before the Heat had them drawn together.

He tried not to think about any of it too much. He sat on the train in silence, Sherlock sound asleep against his shoulder, legs safely tugged over John’s hips. Boswell was going to show up, sooner rather than later, after his name showed on Sherlock’s skin, just next to his Bond, and John didn’t need to think about what he wanted to do to the man. It was scary to think about that, knowing how deep he was with Sherlock.

And the Omega was clueless as well. He thought he’s feeling now were something to fear. He believed that someway John Watson was Boswell. A simple soldier gifted with such an amazing creature like Sherlock. It was laughable and stupid but if Sherlock needed to believe it, John wasn’t about to try and reason him out of it.

John brushed his fingers over the marking next to Sherlock’s bond. The night before they headed for London he bit him without forging a full bond, just a marking of possession to show any potential interested parties that Sherlock was taken.

And once in London John proved himself why the marking was needed. They were on another train already; one that was going to take them to Central London where from Mycroft could secure him. The crowd was going to be the best cover for them to be hidden from sight as the train stations were easily monitored and they were most likely followed.

Four Alphas came on the train and sat not far away. They smelled Sherlock instantly, eyes travelling to the couple every few seconds as they checked both Sherlock’s bond mark and weighed their chances against John.

He moved on his seat a little, letting the smell of his Alpha Prime nature to travel free to the four Alphas, forcing them to step back slowly, moving to the back of the train car. A flash of knifed caught his eye before the next stop made the train to slow down and stop and he moved a little closer to the edge of his seat, reaching to check on his gun and adjusting Sherlock, slump and tired against his shoulder.

The Omega was stressed and once the high of the run and the Heat had come down, he needed a lot of rest and sleep to bring the life back into his body and mind.

“He’s a Prime,” he heard mumbling from the Alphas in the bottom of the car. He showed no sign he had heard them.

“How do you know?”

“The smell, you moron,” one of them stepped closer, changing seats and breathed deep, crunching his nose. He dared a longer look over Sherlock and nodded in his direction, “And the bite too,” he said and the other three turned to look shamelessly. “His canines are longer that the average. A Prime for sure.”

“So what,” another spat, louder and angrier, and looked daringly in John’s direction.

The soldier was ready though. His angry look made the young Alpha look away and the flash of the knife in his jacket was lost as he took it back into the inner pocket.

The train stopped again and the Alphas went to stand the same time as John, leaving Sherlock to slump on his seat. They stepped closer to him, no one making a move to the doors as they slipped open and John nodded towards the station.

“Why don’t _you_ get out of here and leave the nice Omega to us, huh?” young male Alpha asked loudly and stepped closer, looking back over his shoulder to make sure the other three stepped behind him.

“John,” Sherlock was coming back to himself, waken with the loud voices, and desperately reached for his Alpha. Un-bonded but marked was an awful time for an Omega. He felt taken but not completely, needing the bond and the Heat enforced by forging it to stabilize and secure the connection.

John turned his head for a moment, eyes pleading for Sherlock to stay put for a moment longer.

“Fucking Prime,” another Alpha screeched and a knife made an appearance for about two seconds before John pulled on his gun and aimed it with steady hand. The man was going to say more, all the dirty things he wanted to do to Sherlock burning at the tip of his tongue before his eyes were leveled with the barrel of the gun.

“Get out. Now,” his captain voice came hard and unrelenting over them, making the young Alphas jump.

They ran for their lives, as they should have, but only two managed to slip before the doors closer and the two left moved back to the bottom of the train car, shy and utterly quiet for the longest ride to the next stop.

John went back to Sherlock, taking him in his arms, eyeing the empty train car suspiciously. He stayed calm, forcing his heart to slow down and his hands not to clench in Sherlock’s shirt. The Omega was nervous and fidgety. It wasn’t usual for Sherlock but John understood him, having no steady bond and only a burning mark, going back to an abusive family and potentially disastrous future was a sure thing to break even the strongest of minds.

“I’m here,” he mumbled in Sherlock’s hair, kissing his ear tenderly. “It’s alright, love. Everything is fine.”

Sherlock trembled, deep breaths calming his racing heart. “I need you to bite me soon. It’s hell.”

“I will,” John brushed a hand through his hair. “The next stop is ours and Mycroft will take us to a secure house for a while. We’ll bond, spend your Heat and then we’ll face your family.”

“Do we have to meet them?” Sherlock’s whine broke John’s heart.

“We do, otherwise they may say I have forced the bond and try and take you back.”

“They’ll say that anyway. And they’ll attack again and again.”

“Mycroft says he has something in mind and he’ll help.”

Sherlock huffed but didn’t say anything more. It wasn’t his favorite idea, using Mycroft’s help but he preferred it from facing the family on his own.

He turned his head and John used the moment to kiss him, his Alpha nature soothing Sherlock in his lap and lulling him into sweet feel of safety and home.


	13. Bonded

A black car waited just as promised and John half-carried, half-dragged Sherlock from the curb onto the backseat. Sherlock grew weaker by the moment and waiting in the cold London air didn’t help him clear his head. John climbed after him, throwing the backpack in their feet, fast to gather Sherlock in his arms.

“He needs a Bond,” Mycroft asked suddenly from the opposite seat and made John jump in surprise. He didn’t notice other’s presence, too centered on keeping Sherlock alive just a few more hours.

“I know. A train car is not the best place.”

“I’ll bring you to a safe house now. You’ll have no more than three or four days before they found you.”

John nodded and turned to hide his face in Sherlock’s hair. He was so tired he had no idea how were they supposed to make it to the end of all this.

“John?” Mycroft tried tentatively and the soldier looked up. He had never imagined he would hear such a tone uttered from the older Holmes. “Who is Boswell?”

Derisive laugh broke from his chest and John signed, “His soul mate,” he explained sourly, delighting in the expression on Mycroft’s face.

“I thought it’s you,” Holmes said after a short silence.

John licked his lips, “Me too. And Sherlock.”

“We’ll talk about that at a more convenient time. We are here now. You’ll find everything you’ll need ready inside. In case there is something else…”

“We’ll call. I know.” John cut him short and hastily thanking him for everything, he hurried to get Sherlock out of the car and into the safety of the house.

It was an old white building on a common London street. Nothing special about it, a house like any of the houses surrounding it, white curtains showing behind the windows and a pretty black door decorated with a knocker and the usual four steps to climb to the door.

John helped Sherlock to get inside and positioned him over the first cabinet in the hallway, running back for their backpack and locking the door with all the installed safety locks.

He got Sherlock to the bedroom, hasty to shift everything into order so he could move to the most important part and relive the Omega from his pain. A bite was all it took but before he could do that, he had a whole load of thing to think of.

“I can’t,” Sherlock murmured when John got back from checking the house and making sure they were as protected as they could be right now.

He found a couple of guns and load kept safely in a box in the vestibule and took them all to the bedroom, arranging them on his bed side table. Biting Sherlock was going to induce a Heat. During the time they both would be vulnerable and easy targets. Trying to be thoughtful John wanted the guns close. Mind clouded with want or clear as day, he couldn’t risk Sherlock’s safety for a Heat.

“I know, love, just a little bit more and I’ll end it for you,” he leaned to kiss his forehead and Sherlock cried, moving around on the bed. The mark on his neck burned stronger and John felt pain in his chest knowing he was the reason for all the pain Sherlock was going throw.

The mark of Boswell flashed on Sherlock’s skin then and caught John’s eyes, driving wild grow from his chest. He leaned down, pressed Sherlock’s head to the pillow and smelled him, breathing deep through the nose. His scent flooded around the Omega, making his whine and writhe with want, and John pushed him a little more so he could reach the bond mark and bite it once more.

It wasn’t going to help much, he knew, but applying a second softer bite gave Sherlock a moment of peace and quiet, luring his body to a state of pleasurable anticipation and not burning hot pain. The tantalizing spasm stopped and then the trembling got better.

John let his breath slow down for a moment. They didn’t have much time. A second half-bite worked for the better only at first. They had but ten minutes before Sherlock’s agony returned and fiercer than before.

“What else?” Sherlock’s voice came down the hall as John moved around the house, taking back to the bedroom everything they might need in the next days. He stacked food and drinks and looked around the room, to make sure all the windows were secure enough and there was nothing he could do to protect them even more.

His Alpha nature was forcing him into some ridiculous acts but deep inside he knew there was more that his innate need to protect his Omega. It was logic, it was knowledge that they were in danger and they could be attacked any moment now. Moments before they both rendered themselves powerless and drunk from the Heat.

“Nothing anymore,” he said, stepping back into the bedroom with finality in his voice. He locked the door and stepped to the bed, divesting of all and every piece of clothing on him and then Sherlock. “I’m here,” he whispered and Sherlock kissed him hastily, no more waiting or asking questions.

John pushed him back, helping him turn so his neck was cleared and in good position.

“Are you sure?” John asked one last time. The Bite was naked before him, his own bite visible over the smooth beautiful skin inviting his to bite down, this time breaking the skin and claiming Sherlock as his own.

The Omega shivered and huffed, “Yes!” he rumbled. A hand reached back and searched for John’s. When he found the Alpha, he grabbed him and held tight onto him. “Do it.”

John didn’t need to hear it twice. He leaned down the remaining inches and sank his teeth into sensitive, vibrant skin. Blood flooded his mouth and Sherlock’s soft whimper washed over his ears. His hands were full of the man and his eyes blurred with burning hot want.

Sherlock arched his body and turned to John the moment his mouth let go of Sherlock’s skin and let him move again. They kissed and kissed, unable to let go of one another until the Heat started and a wave of desperate need and wolfish hunger washed over them and drowned them.

“You are mine now.”

Four days later the ringing of the phone woke John. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and searched the bedside table for the mobile.

“You have ten hours,” Mycroft informed him coldly even before John could ask what this was about. In the last few days he had absolutely forgotten the outside world. It was only the two of them, John and Sherlock.

A cold tremor went through John’s body. He went stiff and instinctively reached for Sherlock, laid beside him. He massaged his neck, turning to look as his fingers dragged over his soul mate’s name, now unreadable under the long red scratches from John.

“Sherlock,” he rattled him and moved to lie down. “Sherlock, wake up,” he pleaded.

Sherlock yawned and slowly blinked awake, turning to John and reaching for his mouth so he could kiss him. It was then when he noticed the expression on John’s face. “What is it?”

“We have ten hours,” John didn’t mention Mycroft. He didn’t want to talk about Mycroft when in bed and Sherlock was going to figure it out on his own anyway. “We have to get ready.”

“Can’t we have a few moments to ourselves before that?” Sherlock looked up at him with the best expression to make John give in.

He lowered himself and gathered Sherlock closer. Hidden under the covers, the stayed close, occasionally kissing or touching, talking about what they could do once Sherlock’s parents knew they were bonded.

“Maybe Mycroft can forge you a new identity.”

“Yes, maybe,” John kissed his forehead and smiled. “We are bonded now.”

“We are,” Sherlock agreed and returned the smile with happiness.

John rumbled, a possessive growl breaking through his chest as he washed in the exquisite feeling of being one whole with a creature as astonishing as Sherlock Holmes. “Bloody Boswell,” he murmured.

Sherlock snickered. “I wager you my next Heat it’s your agency name.”


	14. Home

“You don’t mention you have Bonded. He’s too old to smell you and even if he can, my agents have installed a neutralizer in every room in the house. Whenever you are there, Sherlock, no one would know you have been bonded.”

“They won’t smell him at all,” John said, although quizzically as he couldn’t understand how that wouldn’t raise a hell lot of suspicions.

“Modifications have been made. I have a plan, I told you countless times, Captain. You just need to follow it.”

John huffed and Sherlock rolled his eyes, getting closer to his mate as the car neared the Holmes family house.

“Will you tell us what the infamous plan is?”

“No,” Mycroft didn’t grace them with a glance. His eyes stayed trained on the glass window, watching impassively the familiar view to the family home he and Sherlock despised so much. At least Mycroft had got the lucky change to become an Alpha. He had freedom to live and love and work whatever and whoever he chose.

“And how do you expect us to behave?” Sherlock growled in exasperation. “I’ve been held prisoner for months and now I’m back home in a house I hate to a family I hate and I have finally found an Alpha. Why don’t we inform them I am bonded and they could just leave me alone?”

“I doubt they will agree with you. If it wasn’t for the money they’d take from selling a Prime, they’d let you go freely, but you are an Omega Prime and your breed is expensive.”

“Don’t you have the money?”

“Not yet.”

Sherlock snorted and turned to bury his head into John’s neck. The soldier curled his hand around the Omega’s back and kissing his head turned his head to Mycroft, “How much money are we talking about?”

Mycroft snickered quietly, “Millions, Captain. Do you think you can…”

“I want to do everything in my power to save him, Holmes. Don’t ridicule it.”

“I know, but right now you need to be patient.” Mycroft turned away again and just in time to announce, “We are here.”

The Holmes family home was big and bright, accompanied with beautiful gardens, big windows and majestic arks and columns. The inside was just as pompous and aristocratic, full of all the shiny, expensive little decorations one would imagine in an old family house.

John didn’t pay much attention to any part of the house, except the exits. He mapped every possible way out, every window, door and all the corridors. He looked around for security systems, checking out and mapping everything he managed to see. He was as discreet as he could be moving behind the squad of Mycroft’s guards.

“Sherlock!” a feminine whine came from the top of the stairs and John looked around to see a middle aged graying woman in luxurious dress hurrying to them. She pushed around the guards, stopped to peck Mycroft on the cheek and advanced for Sherlock.

The Omega stopped in his pace. He was petrified, unable to move where he stopped in the middle of the corridor, with John staying close to his side.

The woman finally reached them and threw herself around Sherlock. “I’ve missed you so much, my baby,” she cried and hugged him tight to her.

“Mother,” he said awkwardly, patting her back.

She stepped back, smoothing her dress and looked back over her shoulder, to see her husband calmly striding to them. He didn’t stop. He barely looked at Sherlock at all. The man took a left turn and disappeared into a room where they all followed.

“Good to know our son is back,” Mr. Holmes said to his wife as she joined him by the French windows.

“Are you still angry with him?” she whispered and looked back in fear that Sherlock may hear their conversation.

Mrs. Holmes never quite understood why her husband never became the man he had the plans to be when they were young but turned out a bitter, jealous old man. How much money he could make and how good the Holmes name sounded were the only two things that mattered to him.

His temper drove the family away and Mrs. Holmes couldn’t quite see how they could ever recover. Sending his youngest son into imprisonment worked to only break the family farther away than before.

Mycroft asked John and Sherlock to sit at a tet-a-tet by the door and advanced to speak with his parents, their murmur loud enough for the couple on the couch to hear. They had all types of questions and it took some time for the older Holmes brother to explain everything.

No one bothered asking Sherlock, as he was the young and an Omega, and no one even looked at John, threating him like furniture, for he was not a part of the Blue Blood League and according, not worthy of acknowledgement or respect.

They wanted to know everything. Starting from how he assembled the mission and choose the soldiers of the special squad through how they had to escape from the plane because of unstable engines, and how they managed to come back and through all this time kept Sherlock safe and his honor intact, Mycroft told them everything.

And then suddenly Mycroft walked across the room to them. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes stood on the other side, calmly sat onto their respective chairs by the French windows and sipped their tea.

They didn’t care much for what their son wanted; his marriage was simple business for them. It was a deal like any other, like the deals Mr. Holmes made for trading oils or honey, or silk. It didn’t really hold much of a meaning. Sherlock was valuable, it didn’t even seem to matter that he was damaged goods. The Prime blood still rushed his veins, making his heart beat fast under the protective hand John kept on his chest during the whole proceeding.

He nudged John’s leg with his hand and squeezed his tight before meeting his eyes. _I am scared_ the bright silver-blue was saying and it took all of John’s strength not to crush the lean body to his chest and run away with Sherlock in his arms.

“I understand your grounds even if I do not approve of them, Father,” Mycroft was speaking again, John noticed it belatedly when the even, business tone cut through his anger.

He tore his eyes from Sherlock and moved his gaze to his brother. John’s expression must have been one of murder for Sherlock grabbed his bicep and flung his foot over his ankle to keep him in place.

“However…” he continued after eyeing John with warning. “I suggest we name John his Protector until the day a worthy Alpha is presented for Sherlock.”

“No!” Mr. Holmes was fast to disagree. “He is an Alpha and a soldier! His influences may affect Sherlock too much. He is good to us now, while the shock is fresh in his mind. He won’t object and if we are lucky, he’d be meek enough to sell him in the Golden Auction House next week.”

“He is still traumatized and quite…”

“He is perfect! His normal self would never bode well with the elite. This shy and quiet creature is something else entirely! Besides, there is nothing better for an Omega than a good strong Heat with their Alpha. A Heat would help solve all his problems.”

John growled in warning but the shaky hold on his bicep helped him ground his mind. It wasn’t in their favor for the soldier to make a show right now. An attack over the senior Holmes would only serve to separate them sooner.

Mycroft bowed his head. Looking over his shoulder at Sherlock, his expression was dire and cold.

“His Heat was due three days ago, Father. It has passed.”

A low huff escaped the man as he shook his head. “You should have told me,” he said gravely. “I have some very promising candidates, ready to pay good money. We could have taken care of the problem sooner.”

“I wasn’t sure we were going to get him back alive. It didn’t seem like a logical thing to think about.”

Mr. Holmes’ ghostly cold smile made John shiver and his hand sneaked around Sherlock’s waist. His whole stature was protectively curved around the man.

“Make the Alpha his Protector until the auction if you want to. But warn him that my Omega isn’t to be touched.”

“He knows perfectly well. He is the one who freed him and got him back. He is the one who stood next to him through the whole Heat without even touching him.” Mycroft sounded strangely proud and protective of John. Sherlock knew that his brother had a plan, most likely one involving him being on John’s good graces.

Nothing was said after that. Sherlock tried to stand and walk away but his father barked at him to sit down and wait for instructions while in the presence of two honorable Alphas and a bad-blooded but still an Alpha army captain.

He was lowering himself back down when he felt John’s arms on his waist, his thumbs secretly caressing the swell of his backside in a soothing motion. John stood beside him, holding him in place.

“We live in the modern era, Mr. Holmes. I doubt many Alphas would want an old-fashioned boring Mate.”

Holmes growled but John was a stone wall. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t blink, his heavy stair making Sherlock heady and light-headed and teaching his father a thing or two about the nature of the foul creature he deemed John to be.

He took Sherlock by the hand and out of the house. They stepped out from the backdoor leading to the rich, pompous gardens Sherlock’s mum loved so much. They strode through the whole estate, filled with little places to hide when the life in the household proved too much.

Sherlock led John further within the gardens until they were finally secured in a little gardening shed by a small lake.

“Take off your clothes,” he said without even looking John in the eyes. He was already pulling and dragging his clothing, standing in the shadow of the shed completely naked.

The one thing John took off was his t-shirt which he used to cover the Omega a bit.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a little smile tugging at his lips. He loved to see Sherlock naked like that. It did all kinds of interesting things to his body and mind.

“Enjoying our time together to the fullest,” Sherlock answered solemnly. “You are the only man that I’ll ever want to touch. No one else. Ever. And in a week, I’ll be bonded to someone else. Someone who’d make my life hell and you won’t be here anymore. You’ll be back on the front line, getting shot at, instead of being here in London,” he made one short, nervous pause before he added, “With me.”

John didn’t move, if anything, his hold on Sherlock tightened and he drew him closer still.

“I want to use all of our time so we could live as much of our happiness as we are allowed to.”

“Sherlock…” John wanted to note how emotional Sherlock was but he didn’t want to, even a loving tease seemed out of place now, just after the horrid news they’ve received. “I am not letting you go. I want you to know that. As your Protector I have… I can take you away. I can put us on a plane and take us out of the country.”

“He’ll come after us.”

“Let him try!” John shook his body and looked straight to his eyes. “I don’t plan to let you go, Sherlock. Not for one minute. I’ll do whatever I have to do to save you. I’ll die if I have to.”

Sherlock gasped and shook his head in horror. “Please don’t die!”

“I’ll try not to,” they shared a slow kiss before John added, “Dress back up. We’ll do that when we get back.”

“Why not here?” Sherlock’s devilish smile tempted John for a second but he shook his head. “Come on!”

He pushed himself against the shed and beckoned John closer. The Alpha tried not to give in but it didn’t take long for him to break under the soft, sexy look on Sherlock face, all soft and vulnerable.

Sherlock pushed himself off the ground and wound his legs around John. His body was wet and ready; his eagerness drawn on every line of his being as John slowly devoured his mouth, two fingers moving in and out of Sherlock’s body in time with the tongue, slowly fucking the Omega’s mouth.

The Omega was moaning, soft plead of _oh’s_ and _ah’s_ as the fingers scissored and stroked inside him. His hands were on the blond hair on John’s nape. He carded through the hair, his hands greedy and strong as he pulled John’s mouth away from his throat and to his own, devouring him in the kiss as both their free hands fought with John’s trousers and pants.

Torturous two minutes later, Sherlock was filled, sitting straight in John’s hands and against the shed. For a long moment neither of them moved. They were still getting used to the feeling of John being sheathed in Sherlock’s tight body and the feel of John’s Alpha cock inside Sherlock.

After the Heat they managed to get this naked only once and the feeling was quiet different outside of the mad rush, empowering their bodies to take much more than usual. The whole act was pleasurably slow and erotic, especially out in the open. If they got caught now, there was no going back. They were going to get separated and ordered to a life of torture.

The nasty bastard who’d have Sherlock swam into John’s mind and he slammed into the Omega rather ruthlessly. Sherlock yelped and threw his head back. It hit the shed and the pain made him clench his eyes and arse.

John moaned loudly at the sensation and slammed harder inside him. Soon enough they were both spilling over their bare chests, leaning heavily against the other, breaths fast and ragged.

John was smiling broadly, kissing Sherlock’s neck and clavicles, unable to get enough of the Omega in his arms.

“Let’s go find a home now, what do you say?” he whispered seductively in John’s ear and the man squirmed giddily. The soft baritone got him going anytime, even moments after they’d fucked and he was still chasing his breath.


	15. Death

They walked back to the house slowly, enjoying the warmth of the day and the nice feeling of the sun kissing their skin. While they were far enough, John held Sherlock’s hand, shorter, rough fingers slipping through long silky ones and falling in a perfect grip.

Back in the house they minimized the touching but walked faster so they could escape and run away as fast as possible. They were ascending the final staircase to the vestibule and heading to the door when the heavy footfall of the guards caught up to them.

“Stop!” shouted the guard and John slowed his pace, turning nervously. The guarding squad walked after them and in a moment, circled around the couple and was efficient in separating them on safe distance.

“What is this?” Sherlock asked angrily, freeing himself from the iron grip of the guards. “This is my Alpha Protector, you have no right!”

The guards didn’t say anything. Like machines, they turned, John and Sherlock in their strong grips, and threw them out in the grounds. They walked John to the far wall and kept Sherlock close to the house. His Father showed up shortly, accompanied by a pale looking Mycroft with unusually sore expression on his face and darkened eyes that never met Sherlock’s.

“You prove to be very stupid, Sherlock,” Mr. Holmes said looking smug and happy with himself. “Much as your brother who at least had the decency to turn Alpha. Trying to trick me?” he laughed shaking his head.

Sherlock felt cold inside. He knew his face has gone white and his eyes were dilated in shock. John was by the wall now, pushed to his knees.

“You’ll have what you deserve, you filthy Omega, and you’ll be begging for it.”

“Fire on command,” shouted the Head of the guards.

A dozen riffles clicked, taking aim and ready to shoot for blood. John fidgeted a little, his hands held behind his back, head to his chest. He never imagined dying on his knees before a fire squad. He had always thought he’ll die in battle, maybe getting shot or being blasted by a bomb.

But being shot like a criminal, like a villain, it wasn’t an idea to ever cross his mind. Here he was now though and Sherlock was going to watch. Somehow out of everything awful that was happening, being shot down like, honor lost and all his right-doings labeled crimes against the crown, the worst of all was Sherlock having to be there. The worst was he was forced to watch and see all the dreamy, heroic promises John had made being shot out of his head.

John risked a look up. He moved his head a fraction just so he could raise his eyes enough to see Sherlock. His unmoving form stood with a ramrod back, eyes black and puffy, catching John’s the moment he dared look up.

“Take him away,” Mr. Holmes mouthed then and Sherlock was pushed inside the walls of the house, closely followed by his father and trembling mother that looked John one last time, tragic sadness trembling in her eyes.

Mycroft was the last one to stay outside with the guards and John. The sun burned bright and hot and he was slightly squinting as he watched his family move away.

John wanted to wander why was Sherlock so plaint and good but he already knew, he understood him well but he also was a soldier and no matter how good Sherlock played, he wasn’t going to save John by the mercy of his father’s heart.

He caught Mycroft’s eye and nodded. The older Holmes nodded back and then turned to the man in command. “On three, Gregory,” he said quietly.

And then all the guns sang. Not once, or twice. They had a specific order to follow, all barrel must’ve been emptied. No body to be recognized.

Mycroft didn’t turn away, watching the form of John’s body hit the ground the moment guns started rumble. Lone, desperate wail came from the house and then another, and another. The sound dug into Mycroft’s mind like a needle. He closed his eyes for a moment, the wails too loud to block out and too desperate to ever forge out of his memory.


	16. Broken

Late at night the house stayed eerily quiet. The guards weren’t allowed inside, all the doors were double locked and the windows secured and wired so no one could make a move without the head of the house knowing.

Sherlock was locked inside his old bedroom, a big, spacy room with rich decorations and sickeningly comfortable furniture. White curtains covered the windows partly, open just enough to let the moonlight inside the dark room.

The bed was empty and the chairs too. The bathroom door gaped, a slight ray of light sneaking into the dark of the bedroom.

They forced him into a bath, scraping his skin of every touch and kiss John had placed on there and then threw his unresisting body on the bed and locked it from the outside.

Sherlock didn’t move for a long time. Finally, when he felt something for first time in hours, he only groaned weakly and pushed himself from the bed to the ground, unable to tolerate the softness of his bed anymore.

He didn’t want to feel human. He didn’t want to feel anything but the cold hard floor and the edge of the bed lodged painfully against his waist.

Death. He thought of death and how John was now dead. He wasn’t there anymore.

John was dead.

The finality of it drove a shiver through Sherlock’s body and he turned on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. His white boring ceiling that was still there, as was the house and his dad, and the men who shot relentlessly, and the bloody Mycroft who promised… who promised they’ll be alright, that he was handling it.

It was all there, only now John wasn’t and nothing seemed important anymore.

In the morning a doctor would come and break the bond. The last of John brought to ruin. A week later and Sherlock would have a new Alpha. Some old boring lord would buy him and then Sherlock couldn’t think. He didn’t know what happened next. He only knew he won’t do it. He’d kill, he’d run, he’d hide but he couldn’t do it. Be another Alpha’s mate.

He was John’s. No matter Boswell and the soul bond and whatsoever. He belonged to John and the scrapes of his nails covering the name on his neck proved it.

It wasn’t a bond, it was a pure mark of passion and want and no doctor would be able to cover that up. Only in time they were going to fade and disappear but Sherlock would still feel them, knowing that they were there even if they were invisible.

He fall asleep on the floor and didn’t steer until morning when the heavy steps of the guards and the doctor pulled him out of slumber.

They pushed him back on the bed, face down, and head deep into the pillow so his neck could be cleaned from the curls. Mr. Holmes didn’t allow his hair to be removed as he planned to sell the Omega soon and wanted him in best form for the auction.

“It is a new bite. No more that week old,” the doctor explained. “The procedure may take some time.”

“What?” Mr. Holmes snapped instantly and stepped closer. Sherlock felt his cold hand on his leg as he propped up against him and leaned close to inspect the bite. “Why is that?”

“The older the bond the stronger _but_ the bite is something else entirely. Bonds are works of the heart as bites are simple biology. It’s new and unstable which makes it harder to break without any long term damage for the Omega.”

“He deserves all the damage he gets, it doesn’t matter.”

The doctor stammered, trying to defend his position but shortly decided that it was for the best to leave Mr. Holmes to his beliefs and proceed with his work.

“What about the Alpha? Do you need me to break his bond as well?””

Mr. Holmes snickered and rubbed his mouth, “Dead,” he said coldly, eyeing Sherlock to see how he’ll react.

The doctor hummed, not that shocked as he felt he should be. “If you wait a few days, the bond will break on its own,” he tried to explain.

The man waved a hand dismissively. “This is a lesson. Every disobedient Omega needs to learn their lesson the hard way.”

Stunned, the doctor nodded gingerly and turned his head to the other side, concentrating on his work.

He applied lotions and a shot of painkiller and asked for the room to be cleared. Mr. Holmes agreed grudgingly but insisted that one man from the guard squad must stay just in case.

Everyone left, leaving Sherlock with the nameless doctor who proceeded with his work, humming quietly and tapping his fingers against the small of Sherlock’s back as they waited for the painkiller to kick in.

“We can’t use anesthesia,” he explained rather calmly, “I am sorry but I’ll try to make it as painless as possible.”

Sherlock didn’t bother acknowledging him in any way. The man was a coward moreover the coward who’d break his last link to John. Maybe he should just turn back and attack him but he didn’t have the strength any more. The pain killer made him dizzy and light headed and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t fight anyone right now.

Lost in thought, he barely heard when the doctor gave him heads up that he was starting. Sherlock felt the incision and the scorching pain setting his nerves ablaze.

His mind disconnected from the body and the only think he could think of now was John.

John. John. John.

The only thought that dragged him through the hell and then back to the world of the living.

Sherlock emerged, choking and shaking, his whole body covered in sweat, hot drops of blood roaming down his back and around his neck. The metallic smell turned his stomach and he barely managed to haul his body to the edge of the bed before he rejected the contents of his stomach over the expensive white rug.

“Took you long enough,” his father said. It sounded from far away but Sherlock knew he couldn’t be more than five steps away, probably sitting by the window.

“How long?” he managed to rasp out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Four days,” came the cold answer and then, “Your John must be rotting by now.”

Sherlock heaved his breath when another retch drove through him and he choked again.

“You are filthy,” it was detached and unemotional, as if Sherlock was not his son but a useless animal. He stepped closer and sat by the edge of the bed, keeping some distance from the mess Sherlock had made. “You want a Boswell, is that it?” He reached for the mark on Sherlock’s neck and rubbed his fingers against the hot skin.

“No,” Sherlock snuffled weakly, a tremor running through his body from his father’s touch.

“Okay,” Mr. Holmes agreed lightly and moved his hand away. “We can cut the skin off. I won’t force you. Boswell’s are s weak family, you know. Their businesses bankrupted. Only the winery is still working but what profit does that make.”

Sherlock rumbled. He wanted John.

But John was rotting by now because John was dead.

“Your brother will attend the auction tomorrow night,” his father informed him as he moved away. “I have other business to attend but he’ll make sure you are sold to the best possible match.”

He tapped Sherlock’s head with his knuckled and chuckled darkly, rubbing his old rigid fingers through the stuck hair over his bond mark.

“Be good, Sherlock, or god help me, I’ll sell you back to the rebels no restrictions and no questions asked. You are smart enough to know what will happen then. It’s up to you to decide do you prefer one Alpha cock or a whole hungry army up your arse for the rest of your life.”


	17. Sold

A metal door opened and let the light from the hallway into the small stuffy room. Mycroft stepped inside quietly, only the knocking of his umbrella against the floor clinking. The lamp inside was off and there were no windows and when the door closed the room went pitch black.

Mycroft turned on the light on habit and went to sit in the only chair. The room contained only four things, an old table with creaky wooden chair and a flat bed with one much worn out John Watson splayed on top, covering his eyes with an arm over his face.

“It’s time,” Mycroft said simply throwing John into motion.

Like a robot, he sat up in bed and threw his legs over the edge. With a ramrod back and stony face, he studied Mycroft trying to figure out if something fatal has happened. Mycroft looked calm and optimistic. The light in his eyes gave John some hope and clearing his throat, he forced himself to speak.

“How is he?”

Mycroft averted his eyes and petted the handle of his umbrella nervously. “I am not absolutely sure,” he said at last. “My people say he is alive but the access to his room is highly restricted.”

John breathed deep, trying to keep calm and balance his nerves, getting ready for tonight.

“When,” he asked and Mycroft smiled a fraction of a smile.

“Now,” the answer came the same moment Mycroft stood and manhandled him to the door. “We don’t have terribly much time.”

The proceedings that followed almost drove John crazy but he skipped on the grumbling knowing that by the end of the night Sherlock was going to be with him again. He stoically passed through suiting up, hair dressing and long boring car rides and he used the spare time to ran through the plan again and again and rehearse every lie he may be pressed to tell tonight.

When they arrived they were already a little late but they still managed to get inside, their reserved table waiting, close to the podium and with a direst view to where the stock was shown. Alphas and Omega were to be sold tonight and the line-up was announced just as Watson and Holmes took their places.

Sherlock was to be showed first.

John gave his best not to fidget and look around constantly searching for another danger. In an auction like this, everyone was a potential danger but tonight John wanted to believe he had the winning hand in the game. He didn’t dare dream of the day the horror show would end.

The curtain pulled and two large Betas pulled a huddled broken body from the back room, dragging it on the floor to the podium where they chained the man and left him on his own.

It took John a whole minute to recognize the body. Turning to Mycroft he recognized his own expression mirrored there, shock and blazing anger.

He made to push from the table but the older Holmes proved stronger. He kept him in place. The soldier lowered, caging his anger a moment more before he could claim Sherlock officially as his own.

“This is not the way to save him,” murmuring he turned to pierce John with a steel stare.

John gulped and tried not to look too shocked when he inspected Sherlock with hungry eyes. The Omega looked scarily small, all too thin, way thinner than when John had last seen him being dragged away, dark inky curls falling over his face, dried blood and sweat making them stick. Sherlock was a horror show of broken beauty, face swollen and bruises marking his body. The marking of a broken bond glowed bright and red on the back of his neck every time he lost control and his head fell on his chest.

“What have they done to him?” John gasped, turning to Mycroft. He couldn’t watch Sherlock like that, beaten up and broken down like wild animal. He was brilliant and bright, he was… he was John’s and now they wanted to sell him. They were going to give him away like brainless object.

“They broke your bond the day they sentenced you to death. He has been at my family home since then, no Alpha’s allowed to him, not even me. I had no idea Father would…” Mycroft looked at his hands, fidgeting uncomfortably.

“I…”

“You know what to do. And you have my full support. Sherlock is my brother and I love him very much, despite what he may think. I am ready to do what is needed to save him. Including coming here with you tonight and helping into making your name worthy.”

John snorted but didn’t say anything. He didn’t get the chance to, because the auctioneer stepped on stage, keeping advisable distance from where Sherlock was strung up.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we have ten amazing specimens to offer you. As you know, bidding to The Golden Auction of the House of Boswell has some specific rules and clarifications with which I utmost sincerely beg you to get familiar with.”

A short commotion followed as every bidding guest reach for the flyer on their plate and looked over the short text, explaining basic rules of the Auction House and added agreements and restrictions.

“What is so special about this place?” John leaned to ask Mycroft. He had read the flayer in the first five minutes here but as he had never been to an Auction House before, he didn’t know what should have surprised him and what should’ve annoyed him.

“It is a bit more restrictive than other Auctions. If you bid, you have to unveil your identity for the public and the Omega, although it’s pointless as the Omega in question can’t say _no_. That’s the main problem with Boswell but they have amazing Alphas and Omegas most of the time. It’s partly because many powerful families with children harder to Bond prefer to come here and sell with Boswell. If the buyer is someone they disapprove of, they’ll shorty know. Sometimes they kill the buyer moments after the stock is sold and the person is re-auctioned.”

John looked wide-eyed and Mycroft before asking, “So what’s going to stop your family from shooting me down and then reselling Sherlock to some bloody wanker?”

“Believe me, they won’t. I’ve arranged for other events to distract Father from Sherlock for long enough so I can arrange for your new status and his separate living.”

John nodded and looked at the brochure again, seeing it as if for the first time.

Boswell. It had finally hit him now it wasn’t a person, that Boswell whoever or whatever he was. It was this place. The final problem and the final obstacle to be overran and they were going to be together. They belonged together. And Boswell wasn’t going to keep them apart. He wasn’t going to take Sherlock away from John but give him back to his soldier once and for all.

John nodded to raise his bid once more, unconsciously following the auction as Mycroft tapped on the table his approval. There wasn’t a price the older Holmes wasn’t going to pay, but he continued signaling John to keep him calm.

“It’s just you and Lord Boswell now,” Mycroft whispered in his ear some twenty minutes later.

John didn’t look at him. His eyes trained on the auctioneer as the bidding sped up a notch and his competitive nature nudged at his brain. He bet and Boswell raised him. And John answered. Again and again.

“Sold,” mere minutes later the auctioneered knocked his gavel and ended the dead quite of the room, a soft murmur rising as the winner advanced slowly for the podium to take his Omega.


	18. Mirror

Sherlock heard the proclaimed ‘sold’ and the knock of the gravel. He was sold to some nameless, faceless Alpha. Some not John who’d force himself on him and make him bare his Bond.

But John was dead. And no one could be enough for him now, not good or bad, it was just pointless to be scared. He wouldn’t feel anything anyway. Only the memory of their times with John and all the things they never got the time to have.

The voices in the hall rose, their soft murmur turning into animated exclamations and half-amused laughs. Familiar steps closed and drummed on the podium, coming closer.

“John,” exclaimed Mycroft somewhere close and Sherlock snapped his head up in hope. He didn’t bother look at the guests earlier. If John was dead, no one could interest him but Mycroft… he had used _John_ ’s name in that desperate but hopeful tone.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real as John towered over him, making his way closer and closer still until he crouched in front of the Omega, hasty to free him from the shackles.

An assistant advance on the podium, the key pinched between trembling fingers as the young woman helped John in freeing Sherlock and nervously eyed the room.

Not a sound came from the public, everyone in attendance watching the proceedings with interest.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer coughed. “Special treatment is required in special circumstances. As I explained to you earlier, out first item tonight is not only a Prime but a survivor from a Savage Camp. Its winner, Captain John H Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, is notably a little distressed tonight.”

“He ought to be,” middle aged woman chuckled lightly at the front row, fanning herself. “Those savages haven’t left much of an Omega inside the young Holmes boy. Not to mention he has always been sort of damaged goods, I don’t dare think about it as it is now.”

“And for such a sum of money,” added a nasal voice from a nearby table.

John’s growl was unheard as he didn’t waste time answering high society’s obnoxious remarks. He was too busy gathering Sherlock in his arms and as soon as he managed to set him in a position that didn’t hurt the broken Omega too much, he stood from his crouch and descended the stage, followed by more lightly tossed remarks and glaring comments.

He was stepping down the podium and behind the curtains to the back room, when another comment flew past his ears. The words regarded Sherlock’s body in quite explicit depiction of all the horrors they thought he was driven through while in captivity.

He turned, letting the plaint body slip from his hands and Sherlock tottered on his legs, keeping both arms around him. Suggestive smirks graced the faces his angry Alpha eyes met.

“It is to be expected,” a voice came like a snake and blindingly wrapped around his mind. With his peripheral vision he was Mycroft shaking his head and then the words hit him and he jumped from the podium and stepped to the tables. “What is to be expected from an Alpha Prime, of course he’d be one for an Omega whore.”

Punches were given and Mycroft looked quite displeased but didn’t do much to try and calm John down.

The auctioneer pleaded from the microphone and one Mr. Boswell tried to argue with John to stop just to make him angrier and decorate his fancy bow with a broken nose and cheekbone.

Most of the noise were actually shocked gasps and displeased notions of one Alpha Prime’s demeanor at such lush event. No one screamed or lost themselves to hysterics. It was common, John later learned, for fights to occur during auctions.

It wasn’t usually for someone seen as low and unworthy like Sherlock, but everyone got that one thing that got their wheels rolling. Mycroft didn’t put much effort into scolding him. He was rather busy worrying about his brother.

Because John wasn’t going to stop with just Boswell but he had to. The comments drove him mad and his anger piled for weeks now and there was only one thing to distract him.

Sherlock slid slowly into a heap on the ground. His wobbly legs couldn’t support his weight any longer and his arms shook violently when he tried to balance on hands and knees.

John turned and ran to him, blocking out all the noise and the voices and the shocked gasps, worrying that maybe Sherlock wasn’t going to make it.

Sherlock _had_ to make it. He couldn’t just leave him now when they finally had some future together.

It wasn’t allowed for him to die. John had him now and had him for sure. He bought him. All the paperwork and all the administrative details were going to be done by tomorrow and no one would be able to separate them. No one and never.

He pulled him into gentle, yet hard embrace and pushed behind the curtains, looking back only to watch Mycroft get out of his chair promptly. His people were already on stand-by by the time John managed to wriggle through the back of the building and to the car, parked close by the back door.

“His bond,” Mycroft explained hastily. “The broken bond is making him extremely weak.”

“The physical damage, it’s not all from the broken bond,” whimpered John as he had the chance to examine Sherlock better in the car. “He had been severely beaten.”

“Probably to make it believable that he was just rescued,” was Mycroft’s dry suggestion.

“Or maybe your father wanted to teach him a lesson. He expected Sherlock to be thrown into Heat tonight, having a new Alpha and all. Even a Heat won’t salt away the pain from those wounds.”

Mycroft signed. “Or maybe both, I can never know when it comes to Father.”

“I don’t want him close to Sherlock. Not tomorrow, not in ten years and not in a hundred.”

“It’s okay,” Mycroft assured him and took a metallic briefcase in his lap. “Here are the documents. I’ll get the, done tonight and bring them to you tomorrow. Is there anything specific you want me to put in?”

John shrugged. “Make us as equal as possible,” he noted and looked down at Sherlock. His hand never left the Omega’s hair. “And maybe… leave a door for him to leave when he wants to. His soul bond says ‘Boswell’, not John Watson. He may find the right Boswell one day and I don’t want him to worry if I’ll ever be an obstacle.”

“Ah, Captain,” Mycroft’s patronizing smile didn’t sit well with John. “Don’t be stupid. There are two quite big mistakes my baby brother and you have missed.”

John looked challenging when he asked, “Yeah, what these might be?”

“You never bothered to see your soul mark.”

John blinked. He didn’t even know he had a soul mark. Not that he had any reason to look for one. He didn’t think he had any chances finding a soul mate once he knew there was someone else for Sherlock.

“Where… where is it?”

“Ah, my guess would be right where Sherlock’s one is. They are mirroring each other.”

He motioned for John to lean closer and inspected his throat and ear with clinical precision. His smug smile told John he had found what he was looking for.

“Ask Sherlock to take a look once he is feeling better. And also, check his mark again.” He looked out the window before nodding to himself. He obviously decided they still had some time for explanations because he leaned back in his seat and continued, “A soul bond is not specifically written in names. Sometimes, not as rarely as many people seem to think, it shows a place or an event, a soul-bonding moment that’s meant to change your connection together. It is not about the name. It’s about when it shows, because it will only show when you have finally found your soul mate.”

The car pulled to a stop before John could say anything.

It was good thought, knowing all this was amazing. It was hope and right now they needed hope like they needed each other.

“We are here,” Mycroft informed him, looking at his brother. A flicker of nervousness played on his face but he managed to hide it before John opened his mouth.

He had no idea where they were but as soon as the door opened he understood.

“Why don’t you…”

“He wouldn’t want to see me for a while. He will blame me heavily for what happened to you and not one of us needs the strain of more anger and nasty words.”

John nodded, biting his lips, clutching Sherlock’s half-conscious body close to his chest as he ran into the hospital where private stuff awaited their arrival.

“Will he be alright?” he asked, running after the hospital trolley bed as they impelled Sherlock from hallway to hallway and to his room.

“He’ll need a Bond,” a doctor explained hastily as he instructed the nurses on how to proceed with the Omega. “Are you his Alpha?”

“I… yes, yes, I am.”

“Did you break his last bond?”

John blinked rapidly and shook his head. The doctor was examining the broken bond, then came close and made John open his mouth so he could inspect it.

“A Prime bite on his skin and a Prime bringing him here,” he said to himself. “We are governmental facility, Captain Watson, but I am obliged to ask some questions.”

“Haven’t you got your instructions from Mycroft?” John growled angrily but stepped back out of the room when the doctor cornered him.

“I did,” he complied. “His message said you were as annoying as the young Holmes there.”

John glared. “What do you want?”

“Honestly,” the doctor smiled apologetically. “I want to distract you long enough so my nurses can adjust him and take proper care of the Omega. Also, I am trying to figure if I should call Mr. Holmes and ask him to send help to his brother.”

“I am the help. I am his Alpha.”

“With all due respect, Captain, he has no Alpha. Mr. Holmes has but a viciously broken bond.”


	19. Doctor

“John!”

Sherlock awoke abruptly, painfully aware of every surrounding inch. Two nurses inserted needles in the crooks of his elbows, sterile and clinically cold in their ministrations. He trashed on the bed and shouted. His panic was like electricity in the air, it crawled under John’s skin and there was no one who could’ve stopped him getting to Sherlock.

“John!”

He pushed around the doctor who yelled and cursed, following on his heels and past the nurses and the nursing personal, gathered suffocating in Sherlock’s small room. It was a room for a couple, the Omega and their Alpha. It wasn’t supposed to seat half a dozen hospital’s personal.

“John! John!”

Sherlock panted, knowing John was here, smelling and feeling him in the air but barely able to recognize his face with eyes filled with tears. The Alpha was fast to cover his face with his hands, collecting his tears with his thumbs and kissing his eyes tenderly.

“I’m here,” John murmured as he got as close as possible, arms around Sherlock and keeping him down when he tried to get up so they could embrace. “Don’t move, love,” he instructed softly. “I’ll be here by the bed but you have to let the doctors take care of you.”

The doctor caught then and John turned slightly, murder written on his face as the man clarified with a business-like tone, “Actually, you can’t…”

“Call Mycroft, why don’t you?”

“I have clear instructions, Captain, I told you. I just can’t follow whatever bureaucratic Alpha’s say as a written law.”

John gritted his teeth. The one minion who wouldn’t follow instructions was the one they happen upon.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Let me stay close for a while. Watch us, send guards, whatever. The moment he feels better, I’ll explain everything.”

The doctor smirked but nodded. “Don’t forget the deal you suggested!”

All of the staff left shortly after. Sherlock calmed down immediately after John was in the room with him and allowed to stay close enough so his hand never have to leave Sherlock’s. Then, he agreed to let the nurses finish with the equipment surrounding the hospital bed and the IV they wanted to put in him.

Before leaving, they instructed John not to touch the machines or the medicine, no matter he was a well-qualified doctor. “You’ll endanger him,” a blonde explained frostily as she closed the door to leave them alone.

“You won’t,” Sherlock said dryly. He pulled John’s hand, drawing him close enough so he could feel the heat of his body. “I want to go home.”

John smiled softly. “We don’t have a home yet,” he said and shaking his head in dismay added, “Or maybe you brother found us something. I don’t know.”

“We can find a flat,” Sherlock suggested sleepily. “I don’t want to go to sleep.” He rubbed at his eyes and yawned.

“You have to, love. You are very weak right now. The broken bond and all the physical damage won’t just go away.”

Sherlock snorted. He didn’t really want to think about the last few days. All his shock and pain seemed so distant and small now John was here and alive.

Oh, John was so blissfully alive, Sherlock wanted to spend weeks and weeks on bashing in the feel of him being alive and his. He wanted to crawl inside of him, feel him breath, feel him move; scent the blood rushing under his skin and the pulse racing when he touched him.

“But you can take care of me,” he whispered, voice so quiet in fear all of this may disappear into thin air. John smiled again, his loving, bright smile that soothed Sherlock and made sleeping so much more pleasant.

“Go to sleep, love,” John encouraged and Sherlock had only a moment to pout before he felt his eyelids felt heavier that they have to and he drifted off to sleep.

John leaned over to kiss his forehead and sat in the chair by the bed. He spent a while there, just watching Sherlock sleep. There was nothing to it. He barely moved, breathing hard from time to time and clenching his fingers around John’s. The Alpha moved closer every time something like that happened and splayed more of himself over the thin form of Sherlock under the sheets. The closeness calmed the Omega and he slept soundly again.

Around the middle of the night, a knock on the door moved John’s attention from Sherlock for the first time in hours. He looked at the door where the doctor waited and slowly got up from the chair to follow him.

He was led to an office and invited to sit in mildly better chair than the one in Sherlock’s room. The doctor, one Dr. Harper, sat behind his desk and tiredly pilled his paperwork.

“Okay, Captain Watson… or do you prefer Doctor Watson?” he started casually.

John snorted and shook his head, “John is fine.”

“Okay, John, why are you here today?”

“To make sure Sherlock is taken care of.”

Doctor Harper hummed quietly to himself. “Where is his family? Mr. Holmes has always taken care of his sons himself. Mycroft explained his father is not to be allowed to his own younger son. He didn’t explain awfully much about why.”

“It’s a family matter,” answered John stiffly. He didn’t want to talk about things he didn’t understand and even more, he didn’t want spreading family secrets. The Holmes’s already hated him enough. He didn’t need to add more black points to his resume.

“Are you Sherlock Holmes’s Alpha?”

“Yes, I am.”

The doctor’s smile was predatory. “Why is your bond broken then?”

John stayed quiet. His look of murder didn’t bother Harper much, his smile didn’t budge. He didn’t even tremble when John shifted position to express more danger and less cooperation.

“John?”

“Yes, I heard you and I decided I don’t want to answer the question.”

“You’ll have to if you want to be allowed back to him.”

“He had to be sold in an Auction so they broke our bond. I bought him back and now no legal institution can take him away again.”

Harper nodded and made a note in a notebook before him. “Mycroft explained who have broken the bond. He also warned me about the Prime that was coming in tonight. My staff was little scared because of you. A Prime you see… you are a dangerous kind of creature.”

“I am dangerous but not because I am a Prime.”

“Why then?”

“I am a trained soldier and a surgeon. If I wanted to hurt you, I can think of plenty of ways to do so.” He looked around to see if they were alone although he doubted Mycroft wasn’t listening or even watching them right now. “What else did he say about me?”

“That I had to let you bond his brother again. And as soon as possible.”

“He needs it.”

Dr. Harper nodded briskly and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“What worries me, _Doctor_ , is does he needs you?”


	20. Fragile

“He chose me!” John angrily growled, fists clenched and jaw rolling. He pushed his chair back, unmoving when the loud thud vibrated through the room. He stood daringly behind the desk, eyes fixed on the doctor’s with unspoken invitation.

Dr. Harper raised an eyebrow. A small smile painted his lips and he licked them. “That’s my point,” he noted smugly. “You are aggressive. You were ready to attack me the moment I suggested something that wasn’t exactly to your liking.”

“I’d worry if an Alpha isn’t protective when it is suggested his own Omega doesn’t need him.”

Harper mocked him with a shocked ‘oh’ on his lips and moved to play with his pen. He didn’t get up from his chair and John didn’t move to get his back from the floor and he stood.

Slowly he came down, his rage slowly sipping through his veins and leaving his heart racing with adrenaline. Of course he’d get angry, Sherlock was finally his, after everything they went through, Sherlock was his and no one could say differently.

“Is this protectiveness for you?” Harper asked and he looked John over. He wore a tuxedo but it was loose and bloody from caring Sherlock. “Don’t you feel strange? The uniform is much more suitable for someone like you. You are free to be the monster you are born to be and the only people you endanger are the enemies. Much, much better that coming here, in the Heart of the Empire, and claiming ownership over such a specimen. Sherlock Holmes is not only an Omega Prime; he has the mind of a genius. If threated in the right environment, this Omega can prove worthy.”

John didn’t try hard to hide his disgust. But he didn’t clench his fists, nor did he allow himself to get angry. All these norms, the broken view society had on Primes and Omegas, it was all wrong. And he wanted to scream the truth at the face of every bloody moron who preached his broken beliefs.

He wasn’t just an animal. He had mind of his own, he had a heart and moral code he followed.

And Sherlock wasn’t brainless doll. He was much more than a knot-hungry whore. He was nothing like that actually and John couldn’t stand people deeming him as low. He was genius, not something like a genius. Pure, brilliant, amazing, beautiful genius.

It wasn’t a biological law for Alpha to be superior to Omega. It was society’s law.

“What do you want?” John asked at last, he was tired and he didn’t have the energy to spend on arguing with Dr. Harper.

“I want you to leave,” the doctor explained. “But I know you won’t.”

John snorted derisively and shook his head, “No, I won’t.”

A mobile pinged and Dr. Harper looked at his phone. He smiled a little and then looked at John with something akin to wonder, “Mr. Holmes advices me to let you go back to his brother or I’d strongly regret it.”

“One wonders,” John said, stopping by the door to look smugly at the doctor. “Who should you fear more, one worried Alpha Prime or one agitated governmental bureaucrat.”

Harper hardly hid his spiteful look. “You’d waste him, Doctor Watson. You’d waste a perfect opportunity to train and examine him.”

John grumbled one last time and left the room, closing the door with a loud thud. He hurried to Sherlock’s room and leaned against the door once it was safely closed behind him. It couldn’t be locked so John moved his chair directly between the door and Sherlock and sat himself there.

He was alert and ready, after what had happened he didn’t think he’d be able to catch even half an hour of sleep while they were still inside the damn hospital. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take, loosing Sherlock because he couldn’t overcome his body.

Six hours later two men came and stood by the door. Mycroft called to inform him they were his guards and they were going to look after them both. He allowed himself couple hours of sleep then only to wake to a grumbling, fully aware Sherlock, having a huge argument with one of the nurses.

“I don’t want to take it!” he said and crossed his hands on his chest.

The nurse rolled her eyes before looking at John’s moving form. She glared, crunching her nose derisively and moved a step back from Sherlock’s bed. “You need it, Mr. Holmes. The suppressant will allow us to place a bond and stabilize your health. A Heat will both compromise your health and leave you to the mercy of the Alpha bonding you.”

“I have an Alpha,” he growled in warning, “and I quite hope he takes advantage of me, thank you” he scratched the soul mark on his neck. John blinked, remembering he ought to check both their marks later, when Sherlock was better. “Didn’t you get the documents?”

“Mr. Mycroft Holmes phoned to assure us they were on the way.”

“Perfect. Just the time for me to get better and spent a healthy Heat with my Alpha.”

The nurse looked at the floor for a moment and then tentatively asked, “You know that man is an Alpha Prime?”

Sherlock snorted and acted shocked for a moment, “Are you sure?” he ironized her and motioned for her to go away. “You are far bigger the idiot I deemed you to be,” he said, looking sternly at her shocked expression.

Eyes wide and fingers trembling, she turned for the door and disappeared, whining about ‘disobedient Omegas’ under her breath.

John got up from his chair-turned-bed and stirred his back, moving around a little, trying to relieve his body from the strain of sleeping in sitting position. Of course, he has had much worse in the army, especially on longer, more dangerous missions when there was no place for provisions and they moved ahead with only the clothes on their back and the guns in their hands.

“You know, suppressant may not be such a bad idea,” offered John.

Sherlock looked shocked for a moment and then closed his eyes. “I don’t want to take it.”

“I know, I don’t want it for you either, but you are unstable right now, Sherlock, and a Heat will only endanger your health.”

“It will help with the bond, John,” he insisted. “I need your bond and when we are bonded, I’ll be okay.”

“You’ll need rest and a lot of help. A broken bond is dangerous matter, love. The last thing I want right now is making it harder on us because I can’t take a proper care of you.”

“What do you suggest?” Sherlock reached for him and pulled him closer to the bed. “And don’t include staying here, because I am not staying here any longer.”

John smiled, brushing the hair from his eyes tenderly, “No, I am not staying here too. I am taking you away by the end of the day. I just wanted to check on you test results when they bring them back. Then, we are going home where I want you to rest before we induce a Heat. It will be dangerous, especially knowing how hard it was for your body to overcome the breaking of the old bond.”

“It was too soon, the bond was at its strongest. It was expected for my body to wear down after such a fresh bond was broken.”

“Rest now,” he encouraged. “I’ll contact Mycroft and see what can be done.”


	21. Collapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, guys!
> 
> I have an announcement. I won't be able to post new chapters for the next week, until the 21st of April actually. This will be the last update until then (if I manage to finish the next chapter by tomorrow, there will be one more, but I can't promise).
> 
> And don't worry. There is plenty of fluff coming after all this torture.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

By the end of the day, the tests were ready and John had the chance to study them thoroughly. Mycroft phoned every hour, wanting to know about every change in his brother’s status before finally announcing he will be sending someone to help. John argued he didn’t particularly need any helping and was prominently ignored.

He didn’t need to explain what had happened with Dr. Harper, because Mycroft had already seen and heard it from the cameras as the hospital turned out to be a special institution in tight connection with HQ. Mycroft promised he’ll take care of everything and that was it. Sherlock pressed John to stay away, asking to leave and he agreed, letting Mycroft take the wheel from there.

The soldier wondered if he should ask what the dealing would consist of but then he remembered the way all the staff treated Sherlock and decided they deserved whatever the Holmes’s had in store for them.

“Mycroft promised he’ll take care of them,” John said when the last of the nurses for the afternoon rotation left the room, grumbling. “He didn’t enjoy what happened last night or this morning.”

“It’s strange,” Sherlock added, mindful of how he addressed the matter. “Mycroft’s minions rarely disobey his direct orders.”

“An Omega Prime given to an Alpha Prime, it’s hard for society to swallow that one, love,” John smiled, brushing his hand over Sherlock’s unruly curls and tousling them. “But it will be over soon and from now on, let’s not deal with his minions again?”

Sherlock grinned wildly and leaned down to kiss him. Their lips met harshly and their agitation sipped into the kiss, turning it wild and messy. Tongues and teeth and Sherlock’s soft moans brushed John and turned him pliant and warm.

Licking Sherlock’s perfect cupid bow, John rubbed their noses together and soundly rumbled deep in his chest. “I wish I didn’t have to Bond you again but we’ll make the best of it.”

“Did you ask about the flat?”

John was about to say something when the door opened and Dr. Harper stepped inside, papers in hand.

“Get out!” Sherlock rumbled angrily and glared at him when the doctor ignored him and closed the door behind his back, walking to the small table by the window.

“Dr. Watson,” he said, ignoring Sherlock steadfastly, “we need to talk about our patient.”

“He is pretty capable of speaking for himself,” John forced his voice to sound calm and didn’t move from the bed, where he was sat by Sherlock’s side.

“It concerns his release. You will have to take full responsibility and sign these forms here,” he handed a folder and a pen. “Whatever happens to the Prime, you’ll answer for it.”

He wanted to note that as a doctor, he was fully capable of taking care for him and as his Alpha, he had no one to answer to, but he preferred to keep quiet. Talking to the doctor would only make him stay longer. Their pointed silence and curt nod were enough for the man to leave quietly.

John got to the papers, working through everything when the door opened again and a graying man in a great long coat stepped inside. Both John and Sherlock looked up with questioning looks but a moment later, John was alone in his confusion. Sherlock rolled his eyes but a faint smile wondered around his lips.

“Lestrade,” he mumbled. The man smiled and nodded, coming closer to John to shake his hand.

“DI Gregory Lestrade,” he introduced himself and John took his hand. “I am here to make sure everything is as it should be, Captain. Mycroft told me you had some problems and wished for me to arrange you departure and safe transportation.”

“They harass John,” Sherlock announced with annoyance.

“We don’t need help with that. I want to make sure they don’t keep track of him. They are strangely aggressive towards Sherlock and I worry what might happen if they have too much information on him. With his father and all.”

Lestrade nodded and left the room to give instruction to the people he had brought in with himself. He moved fast and efficiently, not losing time for waiting or chasing after the perfect moment. He wanted to know only one thing and that was if they had given the papers for Sherlock’s release to John.

Knowing it was done; Lestrade disappeared and didn’t show up again until later during the day, to announce that “They’ll come back in couple of hours when he’s round of medicine ends for the day. I’ll go back to work but a transport is arranged to take you to your new flat.”

The rest of the day passed by quickly, the doctors doing their rounds and the nurses passing by to check on Sherlock’s vitals and IVs. John stayed close, one hand in Sherlock’s and the other buried in his hair or brushing his neck or pressing against his beautiful mouth that pressed kisses against his thumb every time he brushed the lips.

They did nothing in particular all they. They didn’t plan for the future, both knowing it was too soon to dream of happy days and carefree moments. Everyone they met, everyone that knew who they were and what they were was going to be a problem.

Expectation. Social norms. Prejudices. Discrimination. Partition. And what else.

Sherlock mumbled again and again under his breath, crunching his eyes and trying to ignore the nagging feeling that to live peacefully together, they’d have to move far away or hide themselves. He pushed the thought into the back of his head, somewhere deep inside a cupboard in his mind palace.

He preferred to focus on what they had now. And that wasn’t bad at all. They were finally bound together, legally at least but very soon by the Bond once more and then…

Then they had the world at their will.

Sherlock looked at John, his smiling face making the days brighter and leaned down to kiss him. For a Prime John wasn’t quite typical. He was unusually calm and patient, he held himself with air of normality and humanity while a typical Alpha Prime would most likely lean heavily on their animalistic, stronger features and aggressive, abusive nature, often used by Primes in acquiring a wanted Mate or Bonding. Or anything they wanted actually. They were known as dangerous and uncontrollable for reason.

But John was nothing like that.

At least most of the time he wasn’t.

It was noon when Dr. Harper entered the room to announce Sherlock was free to go. A long procedure of taking all the IVs and systems out and arranging him and helping him get dressed up and properly arranging the bondage over the Broken Bond and what not followed and took them almost an hour to finish up.

They were by the door when Dr. Harper held it open and invited John to step before him, using the opportunity to lean closer and whisper in his ear, “You kept calm surprisingly long, Doctor.”

Sherlock stopped, one step before him, and his hand slipped through John’s, falling away.

The Alpha rumbled and pushed the doctor back. He didn’t let himself be pushed though and he stepped back into John’s personal space. “You wouldn’t bear taking care of him long. You’ll grow angry and annoyed. Bring him here when you are ready. I’d let you have his arse, if you let me train him. We’d be both favored and the Omega used in its best way.”

Hands in his apron, he pushed the man to the wall and up in the air. Legs kicking and hands flaying about, trying to free his throat from the clenching hands, the doctor screamed weakly and fought for breath.

John was angry. And only Sherlock stepped forward, practically throwing himself over John’s back to try and keep him away from the doctor.

“Stop!” the baritone rumbled and shushed John’s mighty Alpha growl as he shook his pray in the air and squeezed the life out of him.

John snarled and kicked at the wall where Harper legs hanged and Sherlock had to push his way between him and the doctor.

“John! John, listen to me!” he put his hands on John’s abdomen and hips and moved them soothingly over his body. “Let go of him,” he pleaded and then, “John!” and this time it was an order and it distracted John from his rage.

The same moment Harper kicked and pushed and by chance, instead of kicking John in the leg, he kicked at Sherlock, throwing him back and to the floor.

John growled and rumbled, punching Harper’s whole body against the wall. He looked back at Sherlock, anger seeping away and genuine worry coming at its place. He let go of Harper, letting him crumble in a pile on the floor, and turned for Sherlock, reaching for him and taking him into his arms.

He was on the panting, scrambling of the floor as John kneeled next to him. The soldier motioned slightly, rubbing Sherlock’s neck in fear. He was so worried Sherlock would fight his touch now he has seen a display of his primal, wild side; his hands shook around the Omega and pulled closer against him every time Sherlock moved.

“I am not trying to get away from you,” Sherlock whispered in his ear, sliding his hands up and down John’s trembling arms.

John panted, slowly coming down from his anger, feeling Sherlock safely wrapped around him. He shook his head, clearing his vision; his eyes following as Harper slowly stepped away. The man moved aside quiet as a mouse. He knew saying something would only prompt John’s anger once more and he didn’t dare challenge the Prime once he had tasted his fury.

“Sherlock,” John reached for the Omega and pulled him to his chest. Sherlock leaned on him, letting John press his head softly to his shoulder. “Please don’t go.”

“I am not trying to get away,” he whispered. “I want to be closer.”

John smiled, thanking him countlessly and leaned down to kiss him, his hand rubbing at his back.

“Are you alright? He kicked you pretty bad,” John maneuvered him to a sitting position and pulled his shirt so he could inspect his ribs.

Sherlock shook his head, clearing his blurry vision. “I’m fine.” He pushed the hand that touched over his ribs and abdomen and held it to his lips, kissing it. “Let’s go home. Please.”

John signed but smiled happily and moved to pull him up. Only when he moved his hand from Sherlock’s neck and reached for his palm, he noticed the blood.

An animalistic growl shuttered through his body as he pushed Sherlock closer, turned his back to himself and ripped the shirt open.

A fine trickle of blood spiraled from the bond down Sherlock’s spine.

John got just about the right amount of time to look at it, before Sherlock gasped and slowly collapsed into his hands.


	22. JHW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry it's so short, I didn't have time or energy for much more.
> 
> I need to get back in track with writing this and the chapters will be longer. This is for now.

There was no loud boom, no machine gun fire ripping his ears, no screams, no panic. It was deadly quiet.

All the staff slowly backed up, too much of lousy doctors to have an instinct to protect the wounded. John barely noticed they had moved at all. He knew they were gone and it meant no difference.

The DI stood a few steps away, smart enough to know when to approach and when to stay away. He looked around, his eyes scanning the almost empty hallway and after calculating his chances, stepped closer and crouched on the other side of Sherlock.

“He is going into shock,” he said but it sounded more like a question and John felt his head nodding in answer. “Do you know what… can you help him?”

“I can, I’ll take him back to his room and you could bring me some things. Pull you badge out if you have to, I am sure Mycroft won’t object.”

Lestrade smiled ruefully but shook his head. John was already on his feet, Sherlock in arms and inside the room, when he spoke, “Let’s just hope they don’t think calling the police is a good idea.”

“Why?” John was writing a list of needed medicine for Lestrade to acquire but hearing the absolutely logical mention of police, the hairs on the back of his neck stood in alarm. “They will call the police. They are calling the police right now. We can’t stay here. And we don’t have any time at all.”

He pushed the paper in Lestrade’s hands and made a move to take Sherlock up from the bed. The DI stopped him short, almost gracing his face with a bruise. “No,” his voice boomed into the quiet of the room. “No, they won’t. This is a governmental facility, they don’t turn to police.”

John nodded but urged for Lestrade to return with the medicine faster anyway.

He needed everything now and once he managed to take proper care of Sherlock, he was taking him home. Wherever that was.

Sherlock, he remembered and turned to the bed. Sherlock was still out, lying on the bed with his back to John and a soft white cloth over the broken bond. John didn’t dare touch the wound with any kind of tissue. He knew exactly was to do once Lestrade was out.

He removed the white cloth, now soaked red, and leaned closer to Sherlock’s neck. His saliva should help, he knew, especially after they had shared a bond before. But even before that, Alpha’s saliva had anesthetic effect and helped with recovering bonds.

He leaned down and licked generously. Sherlock stirred a little, the bond hurting bad enough to almost wake him up. He shivered, shocks still running through his body, and John wrapped his hands around the Omega and licked again and then once more.

He tasted blood in his mouth and felt Sherlock shivering every time he touched the bond but he knew that was for the best. They needed a little more time. Just a day more and Sherlock would be able to go into Heat. Just a little bit more so he could step on his own feet again.

Lestrade came back with the medicine but John didn’t give him any time to ask questions. He made him gather their entire luggage that consisted of one bag and to take them away. John didn’t know where _home_ was right now, but Mycroft had promised them one so he had to trust him. There was no other way just now.

Couple of hours later they were standing at the stairs to an old building. Their new home was an old gray flat on the third floor, no TV, one bedroom and a very small kitchen, pre-stocked and ready for them. The whole flat was secured and no doubt wired, but John didn’t care anymore. He wanted to help Sherlock. A camera or a microphone, or whatever Mycroft had, he didn’t care.

“Thank you,” Sherlock laid in the bedroom and every inch of the flat checked, John walked Lestrade to the front door and shook his hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” said the man. “I love Sherlock like a son and sending him away really hit hard. I hope once he… once you take care of him, I’ll have him on crime scenes again.”

John nodded, “Whatever he wants,” he assured the DI and smiled apologetically. “I am sorry, I need to go and take care of him now.”

“Yes, of course,” Lestrade stepped out. “Call me if you need help.”

John closed the door and then locked it for ten minutes. Mycroft had outdone himself but then again Sherlock’s father still had to find out what had happened to his precious Omega Prime.

_How is he? MH_

_Alive, I’ll bond him tomorrow. JW_

_Your documents are in the desk. You own him now. The sooner you bite him, the better. He can’t go on like that much longer. MH_

John growled and threw his phone on the table. He was a bloody doctor; he knew how long an Omega could survive in Sherlock’s condition. He didn’t need bloody Mycroft telling him again.

He got back to the bedroom and dressed the bond on Sherlock’s neck. Carefully, he watched over the bruised, bloody skin and dabbed and covered it with the appropriate medicine. He could have licked it once more, it was going to be good, and the scent glans on Sherlock’s neck only absorbing more of his new Alpha, but it was going to be painful unlike the medicine.

He climbed on the bed afterwards and curled next to Sherlock. A flash of pale skin caught his eyes and he pushed up, moving closer and taking Sherlock’s curls out of the way. Long pale throat showed before his eyes and John drank his beauty silently. Moving the hair a little more, he leaned closer and looked behind Sherlock’s ear.

The soul mark had changed and it wasn’t _Boswell_ anymore.

It was the rather short and simple _JHW_.


	23. New

_His mark changed. JW_

_How is that possible? JW_

The day passed in absolute quite. Sherlock was ill, at first he didn’t wake up for about ten hours and just as John started to worry he stirred and moved around in bed.

John was in the kitchen when he heard the sheets rustling and he moved fast, almost running into the bedroom to find Sherlock disorientated and dehydrated, weakly reaching for him from under the covers.

He was like a wounded animal, all his strength dried down and his mind an absolute mess. The broken bond was playing with him by now, especially when all his senses felt John’s Alpha pheromones in the air.

Sherlock felt the natural need to bond, his body reacting to the Alpha in close proximity much as John’s senses reacted to the unbounded Omega. The Alpha Prime lashed inside him, rushing his body and mind to catch Sherlock and bond him for good. He shouldn’t naturally care if the Omega really wanted to be bonded. The broken bond was a strong natural motivator and a regular Alpha would’ve given in by now.

But John couldn’t. He was a trained soldier, a doctor, and a loving, strong-minded human being. He couldn’t just bond someone just because his nature pressed him to. The temptation was there but it was much like the craving of a forbidden substance. He could have it but it wasn’t right to. Nor it was healthy, both for him and the poor Omega.

Sherlock was too weak still. He didn’t recover as well as John expected and as soon as the doctor managed to get some water and liquid food inside him, he put him back to sleep once more.

_It is not common, I have to admit, but it is not unheard of. MH_

_Is he well? I heard he had awoken. MH_

John grunted, reading the messages that arrived around five minutes after he left the bedroom, having stayed with Sherlock until he fell asleep, curled around his Alpha protectively.

He sent his question in early morning, only to receive an answer after there was sign something may be happening with Sherlock.

_He is getting better. I worry how much time do I have to Bond him before your dear father decides to come at us again. JW_

_Do not worry about Father. He is informed. MH_

_He didn’t take it very well but you paid your due and all the papers are legal. MH_

_Maybe you’d have to attend a bonding ceremony to appease him but that will be arranged in future. Any further worries must be terminated until Sherlock is stable once more. MH_

_On a side note, I sent you some files on changing soul marks. Sherlock might be interested in that. MH_

_Hold on! He is asleep; we have time to discuss now. What exactly is a bonding ceremony? JW_

_John… MH_

_Explain. JW_

_A bonding ceremony is a traditional event for League of the Blue Blood Families when there is a bonding. It includes only the elite of our society, a small reception and of course, a first Heat ritual where the Alpha bites the Omega and they share their first Heat and Bond for the League to witness. MH_

John frowned into his phone, reading the message once, then twice. And the some more until he gathered all the words needed to reply.

_I am not sharing a Heat with Sherlock in front of your bloody league. JW_

_Well yes, you obviously already shared your first Heat and as a matter of fact, you shared your first Bond as well. Now you will repeat all the proceeding again but we’ll arrange it just to appease the society. You don’t have to wait for a Bond until then. MH_

_Sherlock is obviously too weak for that. MH_

_Sherlock is obviously too mine to allow an idiotic theater like that. JW_

_He is not for show, Mycroft. I am not discussing this. JW_

Mycroft was silent for a long time. An answer didn’t come for almost an hour while John walked around, inspecting the flat and reading through their papers with Sherlock.

They actually said he _owned_ the Prime and all kinds of old-fashioned antics that John circled and remembered to research in case it was possible to make their ‘contract’ less offensive to the Omega and better suited for his needs as a normal human being.

It was hard to believe the high society still lived by such strict norms and rules. The regular citizen didn’t even come close to all the restrictions and unbelievably harsh rules of the League. The Omega, especially the Omega Prime, was a very special, very high priced commodity to sell and buy. And John had just bought one very expensive, very thoroughly described luxurious toy that, according to his papers, was his until he, the Alpha, decided otherwise and not even in case of his death other had the right to interfere.

Sherlock had no chance to walk away, to say ‘no’ in any context.

_Can you at least attend the ceremony? I’ll find a way for you not to engage in any sexual activities. MH_

John snorted derisively, imagining what kind of way Mycroft could make the situation any different. Hire actors maybe? He laughed and then shook his head. That was probably the exact thing Mycroft would do.

_I have to talk to my mate about that. I’ll get back to you once we are ready. JW_

_How about the mark? Why did it change? JW_

_You didn’t kill the poor bastard that was meant for him, right? JW_

_Don’t be stupid. MH_

_Boswell was a marking. A place for you to finally find the right path. MH_

_Boswell is also the name of a quite powerful family in the League but knowing the men of the family, I doubt it was ever an option for him to be meant for someone of them. MH_

_You can never know. JW_

_Maybe you can’t. I am not stupid. MH_

John smiled to himself and shook his head, letting the phone drop on the table and standing up. He walked slowly to see if Sherlock was still asleep, and seeing as he still laid peacefully under the soft blankets, he ran back for the phone, just in case there was an emergency, and went to bed.

The flat was dingy and smelly and quite gray and boring but it was theirs and he had Sherlock for himself. They were safe. They were alive. A few more days and they’d be bonded once more and everything could start fresh for them.

A new bond, a new flat, a new life, John quite liked the possibilities. He turned to snuggle into Sherlock and kissed his forehead once before closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.

It was all fine now.


	24. Decision

“Are you ready then?” John asked as he sat on the bed next to Sherlock, hand rubbing at his tight and hip. “Do you feel better?”

Sherlock nodded but stayed quiet. He was still bleary and light-headed, not really on track with what was happening with his body and mind. Everything was blurry and he felt sick the moment he tried to move his head so he forced himself to lie still for a moment more, searching for John’s hand and clutching strongly for support.

“What happened?” he asked weakly. “I barely remember the last days.”

John licked and worried his lips nervously. “You are recovering from the broken bond and the auction, it’s normal to be a bit fussy in your head right now,” he muttered.

“How long ago did we break the bond?” fighting the urge to vomit, Sherlock pulled himself to sitting against the wish of his body, his hand still clutching tightly to the soldier’s.

John bristled and moved to sit cross legged on the other side of the bed so he could be closer and have easier access to Sherlock’s body. “ _We_ didn’t break anything, love. Your family separated us and then tried to kill me and break your bond in order to sell you.”

“That didn’t work out well,” Sherlock noted. He vaguely remembered some of that, the nudging pain of having lost John forever and the happiness in finding him yet again, alive and waiting.

“Sherlock…” John tried softly.

“The broken bond is starting to settle. I’ll be in full health soon.”

“That’s true,” he nodded and licked his lips nervously. It never seemed easy to ask questions like that but he had to. It was obviously too late. Sherlock was starting to re-write himself, his nature doing all the needed damage-control in order to ease his pain after the breaking of a bond. “Do you know what we have to do now?”

“Bond,” replayed Sherlock easily. He didn’t put much emotion in it. It sounded cold and unemotional and John winced.

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” he clarified. “You’ll recover in a couple of weeks and you’ll be free to choose a bond mate on your own.”

Sherlock scoffed, “You are being ridiculous, John. I have a bond mate of my choice.” He reached to brush the side of John’s face and smiled a little as John’s eyes travelled with his hand and his lids fell close at the sensation of Sherlock’s touches. “We haven’t been through all this only to decide it wasn’t worth it at the final step.”

“I know the process; I just have never seen it evolve like that. Usually when we found a broken-bonded Omega and we took them to camp a new mate was found quickly enough. That was a rare occurrence though. Most of the time they didn’t make it to camp. They died and quickly. That’s why I was so scared for you.”

Sherlock smiled weakly, reaching his hand to John’s again and taking it carefully. Their fingers entwined and John used the opportunity to pull his body closer to Sherlock and plaster himself flush against him.

“Do you think we could manage a bond soon?”

“Maybe, why not,” Sherlock shrugged. “I am weak but I don’t think I’ll get any better if we wait.”

“But I don’t want to make you feel…” John turned to face the man, hands flying to his neck and face. He gripped him with warm fingers, massaging the slight stubble and silky skin. A soft pink blush colored Sherlock’s face and John’s stomach clenched. He was so beautiful and he was his, absolutely undoubtedly his. John barely believed it was possible. “It’s going to be painful and maybe even a little unpleasant. You are not in Heat and before your body catches up, it may be quite bad.”

“I know,” Sherlock turned his head to kiss John’s palm and smiled into his warm grip. “But the sooner we bond, the sooner it will be all fine. My body won’t need 10 hours of sleep a day, I may even feel normal again which would be really nice.”

John smiled and nodded his head. “Fine,” he said, “it’s all fine.” He leaned down, kissed Sherlock’s mouth sweetly and lingered there just a moment more than necessary. “We should eat and take a shower and then…”

“Can’t we just do it now?” Sherlock asked. He didn’t want to wait any longer. And if he had to be absolutely honest with himself, he couldn’t stand the way his body was much longer. He needed John and the Bond now. No matter how suck it made him feel, that insistent need his Omega nature forced on him. It was what it was in times like this. He at least had John and for John he thought it was okay to be a little vulnerable sometimes.

“Right now?” John backed up and looking shocked. “You are too weak, love,” he looked nervous. “You can’t endure a Heat right now.”

Sherlock smiled a wicked smile and moved, unstable, on all fours so he could come close enough to sit on John’s lap. He almost fell over him but with a brief pause to gather himself he managed and positioned himself right where he wanted to be.

“John,” he said and John gulped. “What will happen if we wait?”

“You’ll grow weaker,” he said.

“In this case, take off your clothes and take me to bed.”

John rumbled at that, shaking with laugh and kissing Sherlock’s mouth and jaw lightly. “Be a darling and eat something before we…” He touched his forehead to Sherlock’s and smiled sweetly. “Please, love, for me.”

Sherlock agreed and John brought some food for him. As he ate, the soldier moved around, securing, checking locks, bringing in food and water and sheets and towels. Deciding he was as ready as he could be for a sudden Heat, John sat himself on the edge of the bed and looking at Sherlock from under his eyelashes asked, “How did we cross our paths, you and me?”

Sherlock looked up with curiosity. He instinctually reached for his neck and brushed his soul mark. “Did it change?”

John hummed quietly and Sherlock beamed happily. He was hoping so much for this to happen and he was the last to know when it finally did.

“Do we have a mirror? I want to see it!” he demanded as soon as he put his food down. “Can I see it?”

“No, it’s too far up behind your ear,” John smiled softly and leaned down to kiss the mark behind Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock pouted but for only a second longer, his gleaming eyes soon found John’s and he smiled broadly, explaining with a swift movement of his hand, “We probably crossed paths longer than we will be able to remember. Maybe right after I presented, it’d be the most logical thing actually, as you were away at war and the first time my parents tried bonding me ended up badly.”

“And then it became real after I was sent for you and finally, after we met?”

Sherlock nodded and leaned closer, eager to kiss John but the doctor only touched his fingers to the Omega’s mouth and Sherlock kissed them instead. Meanwhile, John used his other hand to clean up the bed and scooted closer, leaning in and capturing Sherlock’s mouth in a long, wet kiss that made the Omega whimper with happiness.

“Shall we?” John asked, laugh in his voice firmly sided with worry and protectiveness.


	25. A Perfect Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After so long, I finally managed with that final chapter.
> 
> I know, it's not much but it's an end to a wild journey for them and it was always meant to give them some final peace.
> 
> I hope you like it, leave kudos and comment if you have anything else to add or ask. Thank you for reading and keeping up with the story for so long. I do hope it was an interesting read.

Sherlock lay wide awake late one night, with John peppering small kisses all over Sherlock’s plaint body. With John murmuring soft hopes against Sherlock’s skin, the Omega shivered and turned his head slightly.

He was trembling, too weak with his injuries and the bonding still resonating through his body. “I can’t get used to it,” he mumbled, “I still wait for someone to barge in and break all the peace we’ve built.”

John smiled against the milky skin, his stubble dragging, leaving hot red marks where it rubbed. “Go to sleep, love,” he mumbled.

“I can’t.”

John chuckled before he rose up in bed, his strong arms holding him up, a dark silhouette looming over Sherlock’s thin fragile frame, huddled in bed beneath him.

Sherlock reveled in the vision of power his Alpha pictured in the misty night air around them.

“I am here,” John growled, “I am here to protect you and as long as we are together, we are safe.”

With a sign, Sherlock leaned up to capture John’s lips, kissing languidly. He pulled the man down, pushed him to the side and straddled him.

“You worry about the cases. You don’t want me to start working with the NSY.”

“I always worry,” the words were spilled over his skin like mild. And Sherlock was just about to remark how John made to sound so much like Mycroft at times, when the Alpha kissed him again and rumbled into his mouth. “But I will be there with you, so just wait and see what shall come to those who stand against you.”

Sherlock hummed in contentment. “You are very sexy when you get angry and territorial.”

* * *

Mycroft and DI Lestrade were both waiting in the living room when John first crawled of bed a week later. He was determined on coffee and breakfast but his plans took a turn after a small cough and a nervous scent got his attention.

“You won’t give him any time to rest, would you?” the Alpha growled, changing his path around the kitchen and straight to his sofa where two pairs of curious eyes studied him.

“You are the one wearing him out the most,” Mycroft noted without any hint of a joke in his tone. Lestrade chuckled anyway and John only gritted his teeth.

It was way too early for him to indulge Mycroft Holmes.

“Another care then?” John sat down in his chair with a sigh.

“Some cold cases actually,” Lestrade fidgeted nervously. “Mycroft vetoed me on using Sherlock’s assistance for a while.”

Before John could make any remark, Sherlock turned at his side, sliding his thin frame on the arm rest of his chair. “No,” he cut in abruptly. “I like the cases. They save my mind from rotting.”

Mycroft snorted but ignored John and Lestrade completely in favor of a silent, yet intent, argument with his brother.

“I am sure once you realize father is once more up and around, you’d understand why I suggest a small break.”

“Father is not coming after us, I am sure,” Sherlock noted before sliding into John’s lap with a graceful move. “He’s decided he only has one son now, as far as I know.”

“Indeed he has but that doesn’t change the fact that we tricked him and now he is in absolute anger against what you did.”

“What can we do then? We won’t run from battle,” John joined in, determined he won’t force his mate to live as a prisoner out of fear. “We did a ceremony as you asked. We promised pups one day soon. What else?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes, a sigh trembling on his lips. “You two are impossible.”

John and Sherlock smiled, both wolfish and lush. “Piss off, Mycroft.”

* * *

Sherlock sat down in bed later, two cups of tea in his hands. “What do we do now?” he asked, nervously biting his lip. “I don’t want to run, nor do I want to continue living in this hell hole of a prison.”

John was spread on the bed. It was yet another day off of his day job in the surgery. He barely showed his face there but with Sherlock’s cases taking up the better part of their time, he rarely had the energy and motivation for the job.

They didn’t need it, especially after the party and the mating fund they now have gathered thanks to the elite’s donations and John’s solid army pension for illegally sending him to a savage camp.

“What about that place you told me about? Baker Street?”

“It’s a good flat. The land lady is bearable.”

Sherlock left the cups on the night table in favor of snuggling to his mate.

“Let’s get it and go work a case with Lestrade. If your father wants a war, he’ll get one. It’s not like we didn’t win every time he tried his ways before.”

Sherlock turned his head up, smiling at John softly. “Mycroft will be scandalized.”

“Let him be. Baker Street seems a good enough place to scandalize you brother on a daily basis.”

The End


End file.
